Mission
by the-spoon-of-doom
Summary: Starscream reproduced, much to Megatron's horror. Years after his treacherous Air Commander's disappearance, Megatron comes across a familiar looking sparkling with a familiarly bad attitude. M/SS
1. Chapter 1

Megatron felt inconveniently large on the narrow street. But then, most planets seemed small after Cybertron.

Petricor's dense population only exaggerated it's small mass. The planet's cramped cityscape made all the more claustrophobic by it's many inhabitants. What wasn't densely built upon landmass -skyscrapers atop skyscrapers in precarious shapes and angles in desperate attempts to create more space- were endless green oceans. Too acidic to spawn organic life, corrosive enough to erode the edges of the bustling cities spilling into it.

No longer tolerant of cramped spaces, Megatron would have preferred to remain aboard the Nemesis in orbit. Petricor's thick, low lying clouds pressed down on him much like a passing ceiling. He made the conscious effort to relax his shoulders as he moved across the bustling sky bridge.

A passing group of tall, narrow, matte plated techno-organics brushed by him. He huffed in irritation. Audials picking up on their hoarse whispers-

"-lost their war-"

"-dead planet-"

"-Decepticon scum-!"

They had long disappeared into the crowd when he turned, fusion cannon humming readily.

Despite his less than reputable persona, the discord on the urban planet made it ripe for recruitment. Just enough Cybertronians had sought refuge on it's neutral grounds after the war, and plenty were beginning to suffer under it's growing shortage of resources. If ever there were a time to pluck those of softening resolves from their pacifistic roots, it was now.

It was midday but a distant sun and heavy cloud cover meant the streets were dark save for the dim glow of platform lighting. It reflected off Megatron's dusty armour, brightening his profile against the native techno-organic's darker silhouettes.

It was the only reason he caught a glint of sparkling crimson out of the corner of his optic, silhouette too obvious to be ignored.

A seeker.

-Hovering in the enclave of one of the buildings, watching the motions of he crowd. It's back was too Megatron, it's posture so, so familiar that he found himself drawn to it, optics snapping to those wings, the shape and the angle and there were too many coincidences for it not to be-

A surge of irrepressible fury had him marching across the street, closing the distance. Servo reaching.

The seeker suddenly turned, alerted by something, spinning on it's heel. It's face damnably, _horrifically_ familiar-

 _Starscream_ , he thought, scowl instinctively pulling at his mouth, gaze sharpening as it met with uniquely angular crimson optics.

The seeker's mouth dropped open in surprise and Megatron realised, moments before swinging his fusion cannon up, that it wasn't. The face rounded with youth, the jaw too square, too masculine.

And about three times too small.

Megatron blinked. A sparkling. It was a sparkling.

He very nearly turned away; about to offer a gruff apology for frightening the little seekerlet, when it took a step back from him. Then two more, one servo drawing back as if reaching for a weapon.

"Megatron..." The sparkling breathed, optics narrowing with hate, face twisting into a sneer. Starscream's sneer.

He didn't speak at first. It had been years since he had last laid optics on his long gone traitor, but the resemblance was uncanny.

He shook himself from his nostalgia.

"Have we met?" He asked dangerously, forcing his tone to even out. Frightened sparkling's weren't particularly talkative and if there were seeker's here it was worth looking into.

But the seeker's face was void of any fear, his features twisted angrily.

"No, we haven't" it snapped, and Megatron watched it's optics track down his frame and back up again. Sizing him up, like he was an opponent in a fight. "...You look far shorter in person." The sparkling commented bravely. Or stupidly.

Megatron felt his optic twitch. He stepped closer, threateningly, jaw clenching. "Excuse me?"

Bright optics rolled towards the sky, "Deaf too."

It was a miracle the child had survived so long with a mouth like that. Megatron had no patience for disobedient sparklings. He'd be doing it's creators a favour really, if he pushed the thing off the edge of the city.

But It would survive anyway, sadly, thanks too those wings.

Still. He advanced quickly enough that not even the seeker's natural instincts could predict his fist curling around the edge of it's wing. To the youngling's credit, it didn't shriek.

"Where did you get such a smart mouth?" he growled, right servo keeping the seeker in place as his left squeezed the youngling's jaw, exaggerating an already venomous scowl, digits digging into soft, meshy cheek-plates.

The seeker tried to shake out of his grip, "Doesn't take a smart mouth to state the obvious!" He retorted through squashed lips.

Megatron gave him a little shove back as he released him. He was robbed the satisfaction of watching the brat stumble though. Blasted inherent seeker grace.

"So you know who I am," he stated, and cocked his weapon threateningly, "Who are you?"

The seeker glanced at the weapon, "I'm not scared of you."

"You should be." Megatron rumbled in his most fearsome voice, looming over the sparkling.

His display was met with a disgusted noise.

"Oh, what are you gonna do?" The youngling sneered, "Rust on me?"

The sparkling was sounding more and more like Starscream with every passing second. A knot began to form in the pit of his tank, growing larger and tighter with every familiar expression and insult.

An idea was jabbing him in the processor with increasing thought. He ignored it as best he could, thinking rather hopefully that maybe Starscream had offlined and this youngling was merely channelling his spark.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

"You brought Autobots into the system," the youngling tilted forward on his pedes to make himself taller, tone accusing. "They knew you were coming here and raided the city. They took my creator."

"Your creator..." Megatron murmured, processor aching with stress. His optics wandered away from the youngling's face to his wings again, the familiar length and angle.

"He used to fight for you," the sparkling continued, looking unimpressed, "Primus knows why. Left vorns ago. ...He mentioned you. Occasionally."

Megatron stared at the seeker. The seeker stared back.

Despite what this sparkling thought, Megatron wasn't an idiot.

"Starscream," he finally guessed, but knew without confirmation that it was true. He was unsureof his feelings regarding his former SIC's, his continued existence, his capture, that he had a sparkling.

"You're going to help me rescue him," The sparkling told him.

Megatron blinked himself out of his numb stupor.

"Oh am I?" He peered down at the sparkling and finally felt he was gaining an upper hand in the conversation. "I don't know what your creator told you, but he has no allies among my Decepticons."

"He _is_ a Decepticon-!" the sparkling began to argue.

"He's a liar and a traitor!" Megatron snapped back, "and I and many others will be happy to hear of him rusting away in a cell."

"They'll torture him for information!" The brat snarled back, his pitch shifting into something more desperate, more Starscream-like. "He knows too much. Do you want the Autobots to gain that information? To embarrass you even more?!"

Megatron ignored him, turning away. None of this was his problem. Starscream was no longer his problem. His abandoned offspring certainly wasn't either.

"Starscream hasn't been in my command for vorns. Any information he has is outdated-"

"What about the military outpost on Mapier?" The youngling's shout made him pause. He glanced over his shoulder. "Or your fuel stores in the Duvan system?"

Megatron whipped back around, "How do you-?"

"Are you going to help me find my creator or not!?" The little firecracker of a youngling demanded, holding his ground even as Megatron stalked back.

"Fine," Megatron finally rumbled, deciding to humour the sparkling.

He was, after all, agreeing to 'find' Starscream. There was nothing stopping him from enacting some well earned revenge on the traitor after that. Perhaps he'd let his little one watch. That would certainly put the fear of the Unmaker into the brat.

"Now, did your pathetic excuse for a creator give you a designation?"

The youngling frowned at him for a moment, reluctant to share the information. "...Mission," he spat.

Megatron wanted to sigh. Really, he'd thought Starscream possessed a little more style.

"Do you know where they're keeping him?"

Mission's chest puffed out self-importantly, and now that Megatron knew, he really couldn't un-see his former second. "I do."

"Ah," was Shockwave's carefully cultivated response upon greeting Megatron at the bottom of the shuttle ramp and laying his lone optic on the upstart seekerlet marching behind him. "The recruitment venture was not as successful as we'd hoped, I see?"

Shockwave should have known him better than to start throwing sarcastic comments around at a time like this. Instead of taking his frustration with the situation out on his sub-commander though, Megatron had a far more suitable outlet.

"Get in the shuttle," he snapped at Mission, giving the brat an unnecessarily hard shove up the ramp.

Mission huffed loudly, wings flicking. He threw his helm back, olfactory sensor in the air, and glided the rest of the way up the ramp. Megatron's denta ground together.

"Lord Megatron," Shockwave began to drone in his audial sensor, "I am aware of your penchant for stray seekers, but I must object to-"

"Shut up, Shockwave," he strode into the transport after the youngling. He could feel the beginnings of a processor ache forming behind his optics. Or perhaps it was because he'd been staring at Starscream's actual living, breathing _spawn_ for too long.

Speaking of it...

"Out," he snapped, pointing at the youngling when he found Mission sitting in the shuttle's cockpit. In the pilot's seat no less.

"I can fly."

"I don't care if you can, you aren't."

Mission gripped the controls and didn't seem inclined to budge, gazing back with steely determination.

Megatron snarled in impatience, and his servo found, with great satisfaction, a scruff bar between the youngling's wings. Mission didn't verbally emote his objection, but Megatron felt his light frame shake with the fury of it. He tossed him towards the cabin before Mission could act on vile behaviour inevitably inherited from his creator, do something like attempt to claw his optics out.

Mission straightened himself up, glowering at Shockwave as the Sub-Commander passed him, eyeing him curiously.

"Sit down and be quiet," Megatron threw back as he dropped into the Commander's seat, Shockwave settling into the pilot's position next to him, servos moving across the shuttle's controls swiftly.

By some miracle Mission did as he was told, strapping himself into a passengers seat with as much attitude as it was possible to muster, muttering unsavoury things about Megatron, the shuttle, Shockwave's optic, and anything else that seemed to come to mind. Megatron fixed his gaze out the viewpoint, silently willing the shuttle to ascend all the quicker through the planet's dense acidic clouds.

The Nemesis lay hidden in the shadow of one of Petricor's colonised moons, awaiting his return. Although he'd been gone less than too cycles it's dark, looming hull had never looked so much like home.

" _That's_ your flagship?" A condescending voice commented from the back.

Megatron forced down the sudden urge to murder.

"The _Nemesis_ was Cybertron's finest," an oblivious Shockwave was quick to defend his High Commander's pride and joy. "There isn't another vessel like her in all the universe. The fastest, most durable-"

"-Ugliest," Mission piped up again.

That Shockwave couldn't physically form expressions made it all the more impressive that he was able to emote so much shock and offensive at the sparkling's comment. He looked to Megatron for backup, but his leader was too busy devising a mental list of the most unpleasant places he could lock the youngling when they finally boarded the ship.

Soundwave awaited their return in the hanger-bay, flanked by a rather bored looking Ravage. Megatron had hoped Shockwave would be the only other victim to witness the walking horror that was an exaggeration of all of Starscream's worst qualities stuffed into an innocent looking seekerlet, but it sadly wasn't to be.

He took a firm hold of Mission's scrawny arm before the shuttle ramp lowered, just to ensure the little hellion wouldn't run off to reek havoc, and dragged him out alongside him. Mission didn't think much to this treatment.

"Release me!" He demanded hauntingly, tiny digits digging painfully into Megatron's larger servo. "You're going to ruin my armour, you uncivilised-"

Megatron never heard the end of the insult as they came to stand before Soundwave. Mission fell silent, optics landing on Ravage and widening only slightly, finally giving some evidence of childish curiosity. Megatron's grip unconsciously loosened.

"Lord Megatron," Soundwave inclined his helm, as composed as ever. His visored gaze levelled with Mission's, and after a pause, he extended his servo. "Designation; Soundwave."

Mission took it, displaying manners Megatron would never have expected to see. "Mission," he introduced himself, chin lifting superiorly.

"Autobot's are in the system," Megatron explained to Soundwave before they could distract themselves with the unwanted sparkling. "And I have been... informed that they could hold delicate information."

Soundwave nodded, "Request; deploy unit to identify and dispose of security breach."

Megatron felt Mission stiffen beneath his servo and repressed the urge to cringe as he said, "It's Starscream."

To his credit, Soundwave barely reacted. "Acknowledged."

"Set coordinates for our new sector." he ordered instead. "Shockwave has the details. We should find our... old acquaintance there."

"Starscream's youngling?" Soundwave asked before he could leave.

Megatron didn't have to ask how he'd guessed. He released the seeker, gesturing for Soundwave to take him in his place.

"Deal with it," he growled, stomping off in the direction of the bridge, "And keep him out of my sight."

Having had many himself, it was safe to say Soundwave was fond of sparklings.

"If any of you touch my creator I'll make sure you all live to regret it."

Even those with more... eccentric personalities.

He wasn't the least bit surprised to be receiving threats from a sparkling that shared coding with Starscream. The loyalty however, that was something he certainly hadn't expected.

He gazed down at the angry little face, more petulant than menacing, and couldn't find it in him to rise to the bait.

"Your creator will not be harmed."

Mission folded his arms across his chest, kicking at the floor as he walked beside Soundwave, "Why should I trust a drone like you?"

Ravage hissed quietly in protest, but Soundwave waved him down, reminding his creation through their bond that he was only a youngling. "Lord Megatron will keep his word."

The response he received was a loud snort.

Soundwave led him to the corridor housing the officer's quarters, where Megatron, Shockwave, and he himself resided. And once long ago so had Starscream...

He stopped outside the vacant room and began entering the code.

"So this is where you're going to lock me up?"

"Negative," Soundwave stepped back as the door swished open to the reveal the former Air-Commander's residence, just as Starscream had left it all those vorns ago. "These were your creator's quarters."

Any distrust Mission seemed to have held fell away as he stepped over the threshold, wide, youthful optics taking in the cluttered furniture and busy shelves. Soundwave waited patiently, watching him run his digits across a dusty datapad.

"The door will remain locked." He informed the youngling, braced for the hateful glare he received in response.

"For my own safety?" Mission sneered, "I can take any one of you."

"Precisely," Soundwave decided to humour him. "The crew must be protected."

Mission didn't look like he was used to having people agree with him. He was stunned into silence as Soundwave stepped out of the room and sealed the door behind him.

Gamuur wasn't far from the system Petricor belonged too. The Autobot's must have been reluctant to drift too far from their Decepticon targets. Mission wasn't exactly the most cooperative of sources, so Megatron had no idea just how long Starscream had been held, what information he might have already given them, if he was even their prisoner- or just acting on yet another treacherous whim.

His data-banks dragged forth the last memories he had of the traitor, unforgettable and infuriating, dredging up so much unprocessed rage that it could keep him up at night even now, no outlet, no closure.

 _Fragging seekers_ , he thought resentfully, his memories that much keener thanks to the visual reminder that was his former SIC's spawn.

"Lord Megatron, we are clear to enter the system."

He waved a servo absently, "Proceed," he muttered grumpily.

Soon enough the system's most prominent planet, Tergar Dare filled the viewport. It's brownish- orange surface plain and unassuming. Megatron glowered at it. He was down there. Somewhere.

"Autobot spark-readings detected on the surface, Lord Megatron."

Megatron spun away from the viewport and swept past the monitors. "Weapons online," he commanded, "Assemble the landing party."

"Fraggit." Mission hissed to himself, servos buried in the hole he'd torn into the bulkhead, struggling to reconnect the frayed wires of the sealed doors.

His creator had clearly tampered with the locking mechanism in the past, making a simple override hack impossible. And despite being somewhat cleverer than the average Decepticon, it was taking Mission longer than he would have expected to undo the massacre his creator had committed against the wiring.

Luckily, the cluttered mess of his creator's quarter's hid many a tool for his disposal. Most interesting were the modified null rays hidden behind a fake row of data-files on a shelving unit.

"Creator," Mission let himself smirk as he attached the slightly oversized weapons to his armour. "Never change."

He blasted away another piece of the bulkhead for better manoeuvrability, and finally found the wires he'd needed. The doors shuddered open an inch or so, and Mission prised them apart until there was just enough room to squeeze out.

The hallways were silent, the low thrum of the massive ship's hyperdrive absent, indicating they'd come into orbit somewhere. Hopefully Tergar Dare, if Megatron had truly kept his word.

From what little Mission could remember of military warship layouts the bridge wasn't far from his location. Which meant the hanger was in the complete opposite direction. And that's where he needed to be.

He slipped into the expansive hanger undetected, sliding into a crouch behind a stack of packing crates. Peering over the top of them he could see a group of seekers with varying colour schemes, looking much alike his creator. Mission wondered which of them had been Starscream's trine.

"Skywarp!"

Mission jumped, ducking instinctively at Megatron's sudden shout. There were sounds of scrambling, thruster heels running across durasteel, immature laughter...

Mission poked his helm over the crates again to see the hulking figure of the Decepticon Commander gesturing angrily at a grinning lilac seeker. They were speaking, but Mission wasn't close enough to hear much more than the low rumble of their deep voices until -

"-Screamer's _alive_!?" The seeker exclaimed.

Mission didn't have to guess as to who this 'Screamer' was supposed to be. He made note to later repay that seeker for his disrespect. No wonder his creator had left this undisciplined mess of a faction.

The sound of igniting thrusters echoed in Missions's audial sensors. He glanced up in time to watch the seekers leap out the open hanger and flip into a transformation sequence, blasting away from the Nemesis and heading in formation towards the looming orange planet. He was surprised to then watch Megatron do the same.

Odd, that his creator had never mentioned anything about the old warlord being flight-capable.

Mission waited to be sure it was clear before following. His thruster's weren't fully developed enough to keep up with the Decepticons, but he knew the coordinates for the Autobot base regardless. He would let the grunts do most of the leg work dispatching the Autobots and hopefully Megatron would be distracted enough in the fight that he could simply grab his creator and run.

If Skywarp were to be honest with himself, he wasn't really surprised to hear Starscream was still alive. Not really. He could still remember an overcharged Megatron bellowing about it -that day they'd all realised Starscream wasn't coming back, for real this time. Remembered him throwing his high-grade at the wall, drunk and raging-

"- _that traitor's still alive somewhere!" Megatron had snarled, denta bared, fists curled, "I want him found! I want him dragged back here_ _ **screaming**_ _-!"_

It had been an upsetting time for him, Skywarp guessed.

He couldn't deny that he, personally, didn't want to punch Starscream in the face a couple hundred times after he just up and left everyone. Not that he would ever have counted Starscream a friend. It wasn't like life hadn't gotten easier without their esteemed Air Commander shrieking in their audials and riding everyone's afts.

Still, he was entitled to miss him.

The Autobot base came into view on his scanners. He glanced across at Thundercracker, who had been the very definition of stoic since Megatron had mentioned their ex-trine mate. Bottling emotions up was never a good way to deal with them, and Skywarp was willing to bet Thundercracker wanted to punch Screamer a hundred time's harder than he did.

And he wanted to punch him pretty hard.

Armour still glowing from the heat of breaking through the planet's atmosphere, Megatron sent through the command to strike. Skywarp swung around, lining himself up before releasing four missiles straight for the base's power converters. They were joined by two dozen more.

The explosion was spectacular.

He flew straight through it, thruster's reversing to slow his descent. He landed heavily in a circle of ash and flaming rubble, weapons already locked onto three different targets stumbling for cover in what used to be the base's entrance.

He shot one in the helm, another in the chest. Thundercracker landed, pedes first, on the third.

"Do you have a location on the prisoner?" Megatron's voice crackled over the coms, barely audible over the deafening roar of thrusters, explosions, and gunfire.

Thundercracker threw himself behind a half collapsed wall for cover. Skywarp followed suit, tucking his wings in close to protect them from stray blaster fire. He sent out a short range scan, searching for spark signatures compatible with seekers.

"Found him?" Thundercracker casually armed a grenade and flung it in the direction of the defending Autobots. The ground shook.

"He's being held underground," Skywarp cringed as he read the scan. That was cruel, even for Autobots. He hoped he hadn't been captive long. "There are too many guards. I can't warp us down there without backup."

Thundercracker began relaying the information to Megatron, and Skywarp busied himself with unloading an entire power cell at a crumbling pile of rubble he knew a minibot was hiding behind. Neither of them noticed the huge orange tank come racing around the corner.

Skywarp heard the engine rev just in time to fling himself to the side. "TC!"

His trine mate opted for shooting at the thing rather than getting out of it's way. Two shots glanced off the altmode's reinforced armour, and with a furious roar of acceleration it rammed straight into Thundercracker, crushing his slender frame against the collapsing wall.

Both he and the wall crumpled.

Skywarp scrambled to find his footing. The tank was unfolding itself out of it's vehicle mode, the turret changing into a weapon large enough to rival Megatron's fusion cannon. It's glowing barrel swung around to level with his face.

The low whir of the weapon charging was interrupted by a high pitched whistle. The tank looked aside, panic suddenly written across it's face. It began to turn to defend itself against another attacker.

The missile landed at the tank's pedes and tore through him gruesomely. It destroyed his legs and sent what was left of him cartwheeling through the sky. Skywarp watched his frame sail away appreciatively.

His saviour landed with a graceful skid amongst the Autobot's charred remains. Somewhat distracted by Thundercracker's still unconscious frame, Skywarp did a double take.

"Who the-?" He squinted at the unfamiliar seeker. Weren't those Starscream's null rays? "Who the frag are you!?"

The sparkling sneered, optics rolling towards the ceiling. "A little gratitude might be appreciated." He announced hauntingly.

Skywarp stared, optics nearly bulging out of his helm, as the smaller seeker seemed to do the most perfect Starscream impression he had ever seen. Servos on slender hips, helm thrown back, olfactory sensor high, lips curled nastily...

"Sta' ream?" Thundercracker's heavily slurred voice called.

Skywarp disregarded the Screamer-imposter for the moment whilst he moved to help his wobbly trine mate up. He tutted disapprovingly at the state of Thundercracker's abdomen, the armour collapsed inwards, his tank likely ruptured. He would live.

"'hind you," Thundercracker weakly gestured, half draped across Skywarp's shoulder.

Skywarp whirled, weapon charged, ready to shoot at whatever it was. Only, by the time he'd even caught sight of the threat, the sparkling had already shot it clean in the helm. All with the sort of casual ruthlessness Skywarp had only ever seen Megatron use before.

"Um...?"

The sparkling ignored his confusion, instead demanding, "Do you know where they're keeping Starscream?"

"Hey!" Skywarp pointed angrily at him, "I'm not answering any of your questions until you answer mine first! Who are you?"

The youngling scowled at him, "it's of no consequence who I am-"

"The Pit it isn't!" Skywarp snapped. What business did a sparkling as young as this one have in a war zone. Looking for Starscream no less. He opened the channels of his com-link. "If you won't tell me, maybe you'll explain yourself to Megatron-"

The seeker's optics's brightened, frame stiffening. "This has nothing to do with-"

"Megatron," Skywarp was already hailing his high commander, "There something you're gonna wanna see-ARGHHH!"

The youngling flew at him. Skywarp dropped Thundercracker carelessly in his haste to defend himself against an onslaught of tiny, sharp claws.

"You'll regret that!" The youngling snarled.

Megatron had been in the middle of blasting an alternative point of entry into the base when Skywarp's voice came crackling over the com. He caught some of it-

"- _something you're gonna wanna see-_ "

-before the channel roared with static and disconnected. Megatron huffed, attempting to raise the seeker again. There was no response.

Megatron would rather not end up losing one of his best seekers in an attempt at reclaiming one of his worst. They would be better off converging on Skywarp's location at the entrance of the Autobot base.

There was a lull in the Autobot reinforcements, so it was just quiet enough for Megatron to hear the commotion before he came across it himself. Thundercracker prone but conscious on the ground, and Skywarp swearing loudly as he appeared to be in the middle of losing a wrestling match against-

"You!" Megatron bellowed, stepping over Thundercracker and plunging a fist into the fray. His servo found that all too handy scruff bar and he yanked Mission off Skywarp.

Mission took a piece of Skywarp with him.

"FFFFR-"

Megatron prised Skywarp's aileron out of Mission's tiny evil claws and tossed it back at the purple seeker. He held the youngling cautiously aloft, mindful of his own extremities as Mission growled angrily and swiped at him.

"How did you escape the ship?" He demanded. If he returned to find the little monster had pulled a 'Starscream' and blown the Nemesis half to Pit in some calamity of a breakout, it's creator was certainly going to suffer the repercussions.

"Oh please," condescension marred Mission's dark face. "Hardly an escape. I hope you don't plan on taking any real prisoners when your fossil of a warship can't even contain a civilian youngling."

"You're using the term 'civilian' rather generously, don't you think?" Megatron dropped him carelessly, helm inclining towards the wreckage Mission had created, including his too best seekers.

"Or maybe your army is just as pathetic as my creator has always told me." He sneered, "and you Megatron. I don't know what he ever saw in you-"

"Will someone please," Skywarp interrupted, hauling himself and Thundercracker off the filthy ground, "Tell me what the frag is going on?! Is that Starscream? He scratches like Starscream-"

"No!" Megatron and Mission snapped in unison. Megatron glared at the youngling.

Skywarp was staring between the two of them, optics wide.

"I don't have time for this!" Megatron barked, shoving the sparkling away from him and focusing on Skywarp. "Do you have a location on your Primus-damned trine leader or not?!"

"Yeah sure," Skywarp shook himself, "he's five levels below. In what looks like holding cells? There are a lot of guards..."

"They're nothing but unseasoned amateurs!" Mission announced unnecessarily. "This isn't the first time I've battled Autobots. I can take them."

Megatron barely found the restraint to not smack the seekerlet around the helm. "You think yourself more capable of incapacitating an entire base than my seekers?"

Missions's expression was nothing short of smug, "I know I am-"

"They've called for reinforcements-" Skywarp's voice interrupted again.

As tempting as it was to finish this argument and put Starscream's youngling in his place, there were more pressing matters. Such as the approaching gunfire. He reached out and took Mission by the scruff bar, yanking him against his side harshly enough it nearly choked the seeker.

"Ack-!"

"Move!" Megatron ordered, lifting his fusion cannon and sending one supercharged blast in the direction of a fast moving Autobot convoy.

Ramjet was blasting his way through the wrecked entrance of the base, making a path for the seekers following him. Skywarp grabbed the still disoriented Thundercracker and dragged him in after him as Megatron provided cover fire, half shielding Mission with his larger frame.

An explosion from further inside the base alerted Megatron to the Autobot guards. But it was getting difficult to keep track of his Decepticons with actual demon spawn clawing viscously at his forearm.

Patience wearing thin, he hoisted Mission up so that they were optic to optic. "Stop. Now." He rumbled, giving him a warning nudge with his smoking cannon.

Mission wasn't the least bit intimidated, whacking the fusion cannon away with the back of his servo, "Let go of me!"

" _Lord Megatron, we've managed to seal off the east and west corridors_." Thrust's voice over the coms announced. " _The holding cells should be directly beneath us_."

"Hold them off!" He bellowed, optics scanning the flurry of activity for any sign of purple wings. He eventually spotted Skywarp off to the side, patching up a much more focused looking Thundercracker with a temporary sealant. "Skywarp, take us into the cells."

The seeker glanced at his trine mate, "You coming, TC?"

Thundercracker nodded, wincing as he stood. "Dibs on shooting Screamer first."

Mission made a noise of angry protest.

"There will be time for that later," Megatron took Skywarp's shoulder. "In and out. We've wasted enough time as it is."

The words had barely left his mouth when the smokey atmosphere of the corridor vanished in a flash of bright purple. He refocused his optics in the much darker lighting of what appeared to be the Autobot's brig.

"Behind you!" Mission's voice cried.

Megatron turned, dropping the youngling, but the red Autobot had already fired. It caught him in the right shoulder. The charge he'd built in his fusion cannon evaporated. He thought he was about to be struck again, when a volley of shots went off from just below him.

The Autobot fell backwards in a heap.

Megatron looked down to see Mission smugly blowing wisps of smoke from the tips of his null rays. "You're welcome," the sparkling smirked.

Megatron's mouth twitched. Primus help him, he was starting to like the little brat.

"Go find your creator," he said gruffly, giving him an push in the direction of the cells. Mission needed no encouragement, taking off at a run.

He was about to order the remaining seekers to watch the door when he noticed the look they were giving him.

"His creator?" Thundercracker whisper-shouted. "As in Starscream?"

"Clearly." Megatron snapped, as if it hadn't been a surprise to him as well.

"When did that happen?!" Skywarp burst out. "Did you know?"

Somewhat peeved at the interrogative tone they were using, Megatron quickly found himself losing his temper. "Of course not. How could I?"

But Skywarp was equally as agitated, "Well, he's obviously _your_ -"

They were interrupted when Mission came running back towards them, face flushed, optics wide. "He's not here!" He shouted, vocaliser crackling on the last word. "The cells-! They've all been- They must have abandoned- and they- they took-"

Starscream, Megatron finished to himself. He exhaled heavily, faceplates tightening into a frown. They'd been too late...

Skywarp dropped to his knees with a sympathetic noise, hyperactive caretaker protocols overriding what little sense of self-preservation he had. Mission predictably slapped his open arms away.

"I don't want a hug!" He yelled, small frame shaking with pent up emotion. "I want my- I want..."

"We should go," Thundercracker's deep voice drew Megatron's attention from the youngling. "If they've already taken Starscream there's nothing for us here but more Autobots."

"I'm not leaving without my creator!" Mission's fierce, watery optics pinned Megatron with a look of utmost betrayal. "You swore to me! You gave me your word-"

A blast from up the corridor signalled the arrival of unfriendly company. Megatron went to reach for Mission, but the youngling jumped aside.

"If you won't help me I'll find him myself!"

Megatron snarled. Where had this youngling inherited his naive loyalty from? It certainly hadn't been Starscream. "Fine. Stay. Get yourself killed-"

"No!" Skywarp shouted in a rare show of disobedience, "We're not leaving one of our own-"

"He's _not_ one of ours," Megatron gestured angrily.

"Yes he _is_!" The seeker insisted, and without preamble grabbed the seekerlet by the wing. A unit of Autobot's scrambled into view just as Skywarp's warp drive jolted into action and pulled them out of harms way. They vanished in a blinding flash of light.

Megatron's pedes landed on cool durasteel, rather than the sun warmed dust of Tergar Dare. But with Thundercracker's injury and Mission's disobedience, Megatron couldn't fault Skywarp for making the decision to retreat.

Not everyone seemed to agree however.

"Cowards!" Mission snapped, nearly knocking Thundercracker over as he shoved past him. "That might've been our only chance and now-" he pointed angrily at Megatron. "Thanks to you they could be anywhere in the galaxy."

Well the little monster certainly took after it's creator in attempting to blame him for everything.

"I've warned you once already," Megatron stalked towards him. "Do not take that tone with me."

He might as well have outright challenged the youngling. He could see Mission's bad attitude forming like it was a physical thing, chest puffing out, back straightening, optics sharpening, mouth twisting into a sneer.

"You can shove your warnings right up your-"

"Alright enough!" Thundercracker interrupted quickly. Likely because he correctly predicted he'd been about to witness an infanticide had Mission been allowed to complete that sentence. "We will find Starscream. We will."

Mission stared between them all. Angry. Suspicious. Disbelieving. Before twisting and marching out of the hanger bay.

Megatron felt himself deflate. He'd forgotten how draining dealing with someone like Starscream could be. "Follow him," he waved a servo after the sparkling. "And for Primus's sake, put him somewhere secure."


	2. Chapter 2

Mission suspected Megatron was doing some sort of experimentation in alternative methods of torture when he'd assigned the purple seeker to watch over him.

Skywarp. The designation was familiar; and with a sinking feeling Mission had realised that the idiot was trined to his creator. How Starscream had put up with it was anyone's guess.

"So if you're really Screamer's sparkling," Skywarp seemed possessed with an inability to keep his mouth shut, "I guess that means me and TC are like your uncles." His face brightened with a smile. "Uncle Warp. Sounds good doesn't it?"

"I'm hardly affiliated with you," Mission grumbled, struggling to free his servo from Skywarp's. What kind of grown Cybertronian was so insistent on holding hands? "And I'm not your pet. _Let go of my servo_."

Skywarp did not.

"If I let go you'll run off again."

"Obviously."

Skywarp smiled again, "Well, what if you get lost?"

"I'm not an idiot!"

"If you say so," Skywarp shrugged, pulling him around a corner. "TC should be out of the med bay by now. He'll want to talk to you probably."

"And don't I have any say in this?" Mission asked. The null rays mounted on his arms where getting more and more tempting to use.

"Not really, no." Skywarp pressed an access panel to open a set of double doors.

The med bay, like the rest of the Nemesis, wasn't anything particularly astonishing. He frowned at the 'clean' smell of the solvents, the underlying whiff of burning from the welders. It made him uncomfortable.

 _Medbays_ made him uncomfortable.

Mission squinted as he stepped inside, surveying the somewhat outdated equipment. Several of the seekers from the earlier failure of a rescue mission were present. Every last one of them laid curious crimson optics on him.

He stood tall under the attention, letting Skywarp weave him around the med berths until they reached the dark blue seeker towards the back.

Thundercracker gave them both a cursory glance before turning back to watch the medic neaten up the last few welds on his abdominal armour.

"You brought the youngling." He said to Skywarp, and he didn't seem particularly pleased.

"The youngling can hear you." Mission answered stiffly.

Thundercracker continued to ignore him. "I thought Megatron ordered you to lock him up."

"It was more of a suggestion." Skywarp, as carefree as ever, shrugged. "His designation's Mission."

Thundercracker hummed, brushing a servo over his new repairs.

So much for Thundercracker wanting to speak to him.

"Can I _go_?" Mission asked loudly, trying to not fidget. "There are far more productive things I could be doing with my time. Like finding my _creator_." He reminded them.

"Megatron's on it," Skywarp winked, as if that was good news. "Besides. We wanna get to know our newest seeker."

"What's the point?" Mission demanded as Thundercracker began to lead them out the medbay. "This is not a long term arrangement, I assure you. As soon as my creator is freed-"

Skywarp laughed, "Ya know, somehow I don't think Megatron's just going to let him fly off with you-"

Mission felt his core temperature rise, "Like your fool of a leader could stop us!"

"Calm down," Thundercracker's exasperated voice halted the argument before it could really form. "There'll be plenty of time to worry about Megatron after you've found Starscream. We don't know what either of their intentions are."

"My creator _hates_ Megatron," Mission reminded him.

Skywarp snorted, "Don't we know it..."

"You must be hungry," Thundercracker interrupted again, taking Mission's shoulder and nudging him carefully away from Skywarp, in a clear attempt at stopping their bickering. "We'll get you a cube, and you can tell us everything that happened."

Mission wasn't particularly keen on the idea of talking to these idiots, but he wouldn't say no to fuel.

* * *

The mess was empty. Thankfully. Thundercracker was already dreading the onslaught of enquires he'd be getting later after being seen walking about the ship with a seekerlet of unknown origin. Mission looked nothing like either him or Skywarp, but little deterred seekers when it came to gossip.

"So how old are you?" Skywarp never bothered with subtly. Thundercracker rolled his optics.

"My age is inconsequential." The youngling answered, sounding all of a thousand years old.

Thundercracker had never before had reason to ponder much on the quality of Starscream's sparkling protocols. Now he was wondering if his ex-trine mate had had any in the first place.

"I'm just thinking timeline wise," Skywarp scratched his chin. "He can't have sparked you too long after he left us."

"What are you implying?" Mission asked angrily, his little digits digging into the glass of his half consumed cube. "Are you blaming his defection on me?"

Skywarp opened his mouth and looked like he was about to say 'yes'. Thundercracker subtly kicked him under the table. "Ow!"

"No one's saying that," he lied, watching as Mission threw back the rest of his cube. "We just can't help being curious. He never told anyone he was leaving. And he seemed almost... happy here. Sometimes."

Mission poked at his empty cube dejectedly, "I'm sure he had his reasons." He muttered. "I know _Megatron_ never respected him. Maybe you should be asking _that_ old fool-"

" _What_ old fool?" A loud, angry voice demanded to their left.

Megatron's hulking frame was stood over them. Thundercracker hoped his leader had morals about shooting younglings.

Mission jumped to his pedes, looking more than ready to start a fight with a seasoned warlord nearly three times his size. "The one I'm looking at-"

Megatron took a step forward and Skywarp leapt in between them.

"Oh Primus, look at the time!" He exclaimed, slipping his servos under Mission's arms and swinging him out of harms way. "Sorry Lord Megatron. You know how it is. Places to be. People to see. C'mon squirt."

Mission shouted in protest, but Skywarp had him across the mess hall and out the door before Megatron could even object. Thundercracker eyed his commander warily.

"I don't like that youngling." The older mech growled.

Thundercracker wasn't surprised.

"He's too much like his damn creator." Megatron grunted, staring after them. "He's going to get himself killed if he keeps picking fights against anything with a spark beat."

"Yes, my Lord." Thundercracker nodded, somewhat awkwardly.

"He's reckless, arrogant," his leader carried on, apparently venting, "Too fond of shooting before considering consequences..."

"Lord Megatron?" Thundercracker wasn't sure he could take it much more and not say anything. He cleared his throat, "Don't you think he reminds of you someone?"

His commander rolled his optics at him like he was an idiot, " _Starscream_?"

For a moment Thundercracker considered telling him, just to witness the reaction. But then he imagined the fallout, and really, what kind of seeker would he be if he denied Starscream the opportunity to explain this incredibly delicate situation to heir short-tempered, homicidal leader himself.

* * *

Mission was aware that his sparklinghood had been far from conventional.

His creator's status as a wanted fugitive had hindered any attempts at settling on a planet. The closest he'd come to 'home' had been an ageing unregistered freighter when he had been very young. They'd had to abandon it after his creator had been stupid enough to involve himself with pirates. Mission hadn't spoken to Starscream for cycles afterwards.

The _Nemesis_ had little in common with the freighter. It had been small, his creator being just short enough to clear the doorways, and cluttered -Mission remembered finding an unpleasant variety of unused merchandise in its cupboards and corners. Alternatively, the _Nemesis_ rivalled some cities he'd lived in. The corridors echoed and ceilings where high enough Combiner's wouldn't have to stoop under them.

Somehow, despite the differences, something about the military grade flagship felt like home too. It felt like belonging.

Communal living wasn't something he was used to though. The barracks housing the Decepticon Air Force weren't quite as generous as the officers quarters he'd seen the previous evening. It wasn't a cramped space exactly, but there were a lot of residents. Mission had never had to share living space with anyone but his own creator before.

"They won't bite," Skywarp smiled at him.

Mission scowled, straightening his back strut, annoyed at himself for letting any sign of discomfort show. Before arriving here his contact with foreign seekers had been nonexistent. His creator had told him that almost all that had survived the first battles of the brewing war had aligned themselves with the Decepticons. And the bounties on Starscream's helm meant Decepticons had to be avoided at all costs.

"I thought we were supposed to be recapturing Screamer," one of the seekers, orange and black in colour, stepped out from the generic mass to nudge Thundercracker as they walked through. "Where'd you find this one?"

"It's classified," Thundercracker cast a glance back at him, looking concerned, as if Mission was really stupid enough to blurt his origins out amongst an entire army of mechs who considered his creator a traitor.

Another seeker huffed in disbelief from where he was sprawled across a berth. He squinted at Mission, "Looks familiar though."

Skywarp stepped between them, blocking Mission partially from view. "Stop staring at the sparkling, creep." He began to steer Mission away from the bunks towards a relatively closed off section of the room, where two slightly larger berths sat.

"You can recharge with me," Skywarp gestured to the carnage that was apparently his berth. It's insulation sheets a crumpled mess shoved to the end, the surrounding floor covered in empty cubes, datafiles, and the odd knickknack.

Mission stared up at Skywarp, and hoped his expression said it all.

Skywarp shrugged, "What?"

"I'd rather recharge on the floor," Mission folded his arms, "It would be more hygienic."

Skywarp's optics narrowed, "How about we take you back to Megatron, huh? I bet he can find you somewhere _real_ comfortable."

"Skywarp," Thundercracker caught up with them, looking exasperated. "I'll recharge with you. He can have my berth."

Mission was happy with that arrangement. Thundercracker's berth looked far more inviting.

The seekers turned in early. The opportunity to get a full nights recharge rare with early duties and long shifts. Some stayed awake, huddled in a far corner over what looked like hoarded high grade. Thundercracker and Skywarp did too, murmuring quietly on the berth next to him. Mission could feel their optics on his wings as he feigned sleep.

His creator never used to recharge. Mission would wake in the middle of the night to find him sat at the end of their berth, watching the door, or staring out the window into whatever strange city they'd found themselves in that time. The knowledge that he wasn't here now, watching over him, made Mission too anxious to get any real rest.

Eventually it became unbearable.

He sat up, letting his optics adjust to the darkness before checking on his newly appointed guardians. Thundercracker and Skywarp were a mess of wings and limbs, huddled together in a disgustingly public show of affection. Mission shook his helm as Skywarp sighed in his recharge and nuzzled closer to his trine mate.

The ship was an intimidating labyrinth of hallways, elevators, and adjoining rooms. Had Mission not catalogued his journey through it with Skywarp correctly he might easily have gotten lost. He didn't have to wander far to find a security corridor, it's exterior wall lined with broad viewports. A dusty maroon-coloured galaxy they were passing filled it. Mission pressed a servo to the glass, wings twitching at the sight of such open space.

"Starscream used to sneak out too, you know."

Mission jumped as Skywarp's reflection appeared in the glass. He turned, glaring, "You were watching me."

"That's what I was ordered to do." The seeker answered with a shrug, coming to stand besides him.

"We used to know each other, me and Screamer," he continued, "Before the war. Back when everything was just starting to unravel. My... _abilities_ made me popular, and Star was good at winning mechs over. Talked so fast and smart you just... listened."

He winked at Mission, "Had a talented glossa, your creator."

Mission frowned, "If you're trying to gain my trust by creating some form of familiarity between us-"

"Me? Manipulative?" Skywarp looked scandalised, "Hey now, I'm no Starscream."

"But you're not as stupid as you look, are you?"

"I dunno," Skywarp slid to the floor, folding his legs underneath him. He patted the space next to him in invitation, "How stupid do I look?"

Mission remained on his pedes, considering the grown adult sat cross-legged on the floor before him. "My creator never mentioned you."

Skywarp's smile did falter, but he recovered quickly, "Talked plenty about Megatron though, didn't he?"

Mission was unsure if that was a guess or assumption or if Skywarp had somehow _known,_ but he struggled to conceal his blush.

"You can't prove _anything_ ," he hissed furiously

"That temper's proof enough."

His denial caught, the words stuck in his throat. He had no idea what to say. "I-"

"So, what's Screamer like?" Skywarp gave him a pass, his carefree tone back. "He a good creator?"

"That would depend on your definition of 'good'," Mission answered sharply, unsure why he felt annoyed. "He's my creator. He raised me. Kept me functional. Fuelled me. Taught me. Protected me. I owe it to him to at least fight for his freedom. He would do the same for me."

He set his jaw, looking back at Skywarp, but the older seeker was watching him sadly. "You really miss him, huh?"

Mission bristled, "Don't be ridiculous."

"You can always come to me if you need a hug," Skywarp leant into his personal space, arms outstretched, threatening an embrace if he wasn't careful. "TC too, even if he's grumpy."

Mission pushed away from the wall, wings arched high in agitation, "I'd sooner hug a Cosmic Rust infected Insecticon!" He snapped, slapping at Skywarp's arm as he stormed out.

"Don't you worry, little one." He heard Skywarp call after him, "I can arrange that too!"

* * *

"Lord _Megatron_!" An hysterical sounding Shockwave sprinted down a security corridor far too early the next morning, waving a collection of datapads. "My lord _, please_ -!"

Low on fuel and recharge after a restless night, Megatron snarled, turning to address his pursuer, "What now?!"

Shockwave stumbled, fumbling with his datapads before forcing one at him, "Recent sighting of seekers in the nearby systems." He explained, speaking quickly. "As you asked for. I have also taken it upon myself to inform our intelligence operatives-"

"Shockwave," Megatron had to restrain himself from using the datapad to smack Shockwave around the helm. _This_ was what he'd chased him through the ship for? "Can this not wait?!"

His sub-commander nodded enthusiastically, "Of course my lord, it's just that there's been an unfortunate development with one of the hyperdrives and I thought you should-"

Megatron was starting to feel like a simple cube wasn't going to cut it. He began fantasying about the high grade he kept in his desk draw. "A hyperdrive?"

Shockwave held his remaining datapad in front of him like a shield, "It would seem the- the _youngling_ you brought back with you from Petricor-"

The _youngling_. He'd been so busy stewing over Starscream he'd forgotten what the damn seeker had spawned. Megatron's denta ground together, "What has he done to my hyperdrive?"

"We're not sure exactly," Shockwave was doing his best not to cower. "Skywarp was with him when the fire started but it's-"

"Fire!?" Megatron bellowed, now understanding why Shockwave had been somewhat hysterical. "He set fire to- where is he?!"

"Soundwave reports that it was simply an accident," his sub-commander said, as if blatant vandalism was ever just an accident. "A miscalculation. He is working on the problem as we speak and assures you that the remaining hyperdrives function as normal but suggests-" Shockwave cleared his vocaliser, "as do I. That you consider a more responsible minder for the... the youngling, than Skywarp."

Megatron glowered at Shockwave.

"But not me, of course," his sub-commander amended quickly.

Megatron felt an optic twitch, "Go."

Shockwave didn't need to be told twice, bowing quickly before sprinting back up the corridor to relative safety. Megatron momentarily considered throwing the datapad he'd been left with after him.

He glared at it. He should have dealt with Starscream years ago. And now that the seeker'd had the nerve to reproduce and spawn a demonic replica of himself Megatron had twice the nuisances to deal with.

The sight of the endless galaxy beyond the viewport only reminded him of the sizeable task he had ahead of him. A trillion star systems, and Starscream could be on any one of them.

A mark on the glass of the viewport caught his optic, bringing an end to his musing. Frowning, he bent to examine the strange smudge, realising with an odd sort of resignation, that it was a tiny Mission-sized hand print.

Was anywhere on this ship safe?

* * *

Mission did not trust Soundwave. Someone so calm and collected was bound to snap eventually.

His distrust only grew when shortly after the 'incident' down by the engines he found himself being hauled into the communal wash-racks under the pretence that the smoke and ash from the fire was going to damage his underdeveloped intakes.

Mission knew a farce when he heard one.

"Behaviour; immature," Soundwave claimed, bodily blocking the only escape route. "Resistance is futile."

"This is ridiculous," Mission argued, sure that this was just some sort of sick punishment for what he'd done to Megatron's hyperdrive. "This pathetic attempt at humiliating me won't work.

Soundwave's helm tilted to the side, "Humiliating? Hygiene is vital to maintenance.

Now he was beginning to sound just like his creator. Mission pursed his lips together, thinking back to Starscream's obsessive preening habits, and how he'd run out of things to polish on himself and start chasing _him_ around their living quarters instead.

"It's unnecessary," Mission grumbled, eyeing the tall nozzles suspiciously. How could he be sure they wouldn't spray acid anyway. This _was_ a Decepticon ship.

"Negative." Soundwave brushed his digits against his shoulder, and showed Mission as they came away black with soot. "There is nothing to fear."

It was insulting that Soundwave would imply he was frightened of bathing, like a sparkling. He flicked his wings back aggressively. "The only mech with something to fear is going to be _you_ if you don't let me out."

The blue mech was completely unmoved up his threat. "I am a creator too." He pointed out, straightening to his full height. "This is not the first time someone has refused to bathe."

* * *

Even Thundercracker couldn't help but smirk when Soundwave reappeared from the wash-racks with a damp and humiliated, but glistening clean Mission. Beside him Skywarp made a noise caught somewhere between amusement and adoration. Mission's cheeks began to glow purple.

"Laugh and I'll eviscerate you in your recharge." Mission threatened, wings drooping low enough to graze the floor.

For the sake of Mission's dignity, Thundercracker made an effort to keep a straight face, "You look nice."

"So _that's_ what you look like under all that filth," Skywarp grinned, appreciating his own reflection in the shining crimson and onyx of Mission's armour. "Almost didn't recognise you."

Had it not been for Soundwave's restraining servo on his shoulder, Mission looked ready to act on his earlier threat.

"Oh yeah," Skywarp flapped his servo, "and we have some bad news. Shockwave's gone and tattled on us to Megatron about the whole exploding hyperdrive thing. So if you see him coming, duck and cover."

Mission's optics flared, "I'm not scared of Megatron."

"Just... let's steer clear of him for a little while, okay?" Thundercracker couldn't help but think back to the rant he'd heard when Megatron had finally stormed onto the bridge that morning. "I don't think Starscream will want to hear how Megatron had you stuffed into an empty torpedo casing and fired into the nearest black hole."

Skywarp giggled. Thundercracker elbowed him hard.

"Not that we'd let him do that anyway."

Mission looked between them all hatefully. "I can't believe I've been stuck with you morons. As soon as I find my creator you can be sure we'll be back to pay you a visit."

Skywarp's expression brightened eagerly.

"That was a _threat_ you idiot!" Mission shouted, taking a step forward.

"Recharge insufficient," Soundwave suddenly intoned, drawing Mission back against him. "Suggestion; nap time."

Mission stared up at Soundwave in horror, and for the first time Thundercracker could honestly say the youngling looked scared.

* * *

Decepticons, by nature, were incompetent. Not a cycle passed without at least one of them calling Megatron in blind panic. Often it was inane, or technical; someone spilling energon on the monitors or entering the wrong coordinates. A lot of the time it was simply idiotic; like Skywarp teleporting himself into a wall or someone accidentally jettisoning a limb out the airlock.

Megatron felt like these calls had tripled since a certain seeker had arrived.

His com blared like an alarm, impossibly loud in the soundproofed silence of his quarters. Barely moving on his berth he accepted the call, but didn't have chance to speak before Skywarp's hysterical voice was shouting-

 _"He did it again_!"

Megatron sat bolt upright, optics onlining with a flash, "What?!"

" _He's put something in the fuel and there's smoke everywhere we can't find him he's too small and sneaky and he's gonna suffocate-!_ "

 _Mission_ , Megatron realised, rolling off the berth.

"Where are you?" He demanded.

" _The engine room_ -"

Megatron cut the com. Again!? What did that little monster have against his ship?!

The smoke was white and wispy, and had filled the corridors surrounding the engines. His sensors didn't detect any toxins but Megatron stopped by a control panel to open the air vents and flush it out anyway.

The engine room itself was full of seekers as well as smoke, recruited in what looked like a mass search by Skywarp, who looked on the verge of hyperventilating.

Megatron glared at him, at the seekers, at the entire room, before a glimpse of red armour caught his optic. He stuck an arm under the cooling unit and dragged the protesting seekerlet out.

"It's not my fault!" Mission shouted as Megatron dangled him upside-down. "If your stupid ship wasn't so old-"

Megatron was tempted to punt him across the room. With a great amount of restraint, he dropped him into Skywarp's arms instead.

"Put a damn leash on him!"

* * *

The _Nemesis_ had such large supply stores that it didn't often need to port for refuelling. The flagship and it's crew were at it's most vulnerable out of transit, and the seedy outstations Megatron would resort to using to avoid Autobot detection did little to help. There was a strict ban on leaving the vicinity of the ship in those few hours it was reloaded.

Which was usually enforced by the leading authority on Sucking The Fun Out Of Everything, Soundwave.

Fortunately, Soundwave was otherwise occupied.

"Look, Megatron's probably not going to bring us back out of hyperspace until after he's located Screamer," Swindle pitched his latest Get Rich plot to his fellow idiots. "You said it yourself, your creator's got his servos full. And I have contacts in this port."

The idiots in question, Rumble and Frenzy, exchanged a look, "Depends. What's in it for us?"

Swindle flashed them his best slag-eating grin, "Adolescent rebellion?"

Rumble snorted, "There're plenty easier ways to start trouble. Megatron's fragged off enough as it is. Why're we gonna put our afts on the line when ya ain't even paying us for it?"

"I could always find someone else to do it," Swindle hoped they wouldn't call his bluff.

"Like who?" Frenzy folded his arms. "You?"

"Three cubes," Swindle conceded, "and only if you retrieve the entire shipment. Undetected."

"Six cubes," Rumble countered. "Each. Just cuz the boss ain't watching don't mean no one else will be."

Swindle weighed up the options, "Alright fine. But if you get caught-"

"-nothing to do with you." The twins finished for him, rolling their optics. "Not that we ever have been..."

Swindle handed them a datafile with the shipment details. "The ships ETA was about two hours last I checked. Command thinks they've got a lead on Screamer so we won't be docked long-"

"Yeah yeah yeah," Frenzy snatched the datafile off him, "Whatever."

"Just be careful," Swindle warned them again. "I mean it. You know how hard it is to find mechs willing to deal with me these days?"

"Maybe if you stopped cheating them..." He heard Rumble mutter.

"Just get the highgrade loaded in with the energon shipment," Swindle pointed at them as he turned to leave. "And before you know it we'll all be swimming in units."

* * *

"Ow!" Mission hissed as he banged his helm.

He wasn't particularly fond of tight spaces but in order to escape Soundwave's suffocating guardianship, concessions had to be made. At least, wedged in the ceiling vent, he had a decent view.

The _Nemesis_ had come to dock somewhere. The glimpse Mission had received through a viewport as he'd fled through security corridors hadn't shown any star systems. It must be a spaceport.

Curious, Mission poked his helm out of the vent. He dropped down, releasing a pulse from his thrusters to slow his decent, and landed lightly on his pedes. The four days spent cooped up in this ship was long enough. Now was a good a time as any to investigate.

The loading bay was busy with mech's shifting large crates but Mission was small enough to go unnoticed by the larger Decepticon's arguing over what went where. The crates themselves glowed a bright purple through the gaps. Energon.

Mission licked his lips, wondering if anyone would notice a couple missing. Having an extra cube or two stored away never hurt.

Before he could make his move, he noticed he wasn't the only one sneaking around. Two mechs, one red and one blue, not much bigger than himself, were creeping around the edge of the hanger. Mission frowned and went to follow them.

They disappeared around the pyramid of crates waiting to be loaded outside. Mission pressed himself up against them, leant around the side-

"You following us half-bit?"

Mission glared at the weapon pointing between his optics.

The blue mech was only half a helm taller than him, his height identical to his red counterpart. Everything was identical actually.

"You're twins," Mission realised, thinking back to the few conversations he'd managed to overhear during his stay. "Soundwave's twins."

"And who are you supposed to be?" The red twin, Rumble, was smirking at him from over his brother's shoulder. "Didn't know ol' Megs was recruiting mini-seekers now too."

"I'm not a Decepticon," Mission spat, taking a step back get the weapon out of his face. The nozzle followed him anyway.

"So what are you then? A spy?"

"That's preposterous."

"You was following us, weren't ya?" The other, Frenzy, reminded him, "Heard there was a sparkling on board." He glanced at his brother. "Popped up right when we started looking for Screamer again."

"I'm not a sparkling," Mission argued stiffly, glancing between the twins and the tower of crates. If he hit them just right they'd topple and crush the two of them. "And you'd do better not to listen to hearsay."

"Yeah 'cept you look just like Screamer," Rumble tilted his helm, "Don't he?"

His brother was squinting at him, "I dunno, he kinda looks like..."

Frenzy's optics widened, and moments later so did his brother's. He lifted his weapon away from Mission's face and took a step back, their suspicion suddenly replaced by anxiety.

"Megatron send you down here?" Rumble asked cautiously, "Cause we ain't up to nothing. Honest."

" _Megatron_ doesn't send _me_ anywhere." Mission felt himself scowl, "What? Is it some sort of crime to leave the ship?"

The twins looked at each other, and began to smile.

"Hey," Frenzy opened his arms in a gesture of good will. "You wanna earn yourself a cube of high-grade?"

Mission blinked in surprise. High-grade? It was a rather unnecessary luxury to bother with. And potentially unstable in large quantities.

"What would I want with high-grade?"

The twins laughed.

"Primus, you haven't lived." Rumble lightly punched his arm, "Listen, all you gotta do is keep watch for us while we bring a couple extra crates over. You can do that. Right?"

"Easily," Mission huffed. "But why should I? You're obviously smuggling contraband-"

"It's for the greater good!" Frenzy exclaimed, "How's a mech supposed to survive ten stellar cycles in deep space without a couple high-grades? Besides, what Megatron don't know, won't hurt him?"

Mission had learnt from watching his own creator that involving oneself with smugglers was always more trouble than it was worth. But he could always do with an extra ally or two, preferably less senselessly loyal to Megatron than the likes of Soundwave and Skywarp.

"I'll do it," he said.

* * *

Despite what his Decepticons believed, Megatron knew about the high-grade shipments. As if the many drunks he came across in the hallways were inconspicuous.

As he himself had been known to procure cubes from the hoard in the past, it would be hypocritical to put a stop to it.

That by no means meant he had any tolerance for the complete mess they'd make of themselves or his ship. Especially not when they were so close to finally tracking down Starscream. _Especially not_ when they had a prisoner loose about the ship; even if that prisoner was a tiny sparkling that just about reached past his shins.

Skywarp- the self-appointed 'Official Decepticon Party Planner'- had seen fit to invite Megatron anyway. Shockwave, whom had _not_ been invited, claimed this was a blatant show of disrespect, and not only should the evening be cancelled and the high-grade confiscated, but that they should all be court-marshalled as well.

Megatron ignored him. The best way to regulate his rowdy crews drinking would be to monitor it himself.

Besides, the last time he had passed on a celebration such as this had been when Thundercracker and Skywarp had bonded. When fragging _Starscream_ had promised to keep the evening tame in his absence, only for the event to descend into something akin to a gladiatorial post-fight kegger. It had taken the better part of an entire cycle to peal all of the seekers off the ceiling. Starscream himself had reappeared two days later, missing half a wing and just about all of his dignity.

Megatron was determined not to have a repeat of that evening.

Just to make it as unnecessarily sleazy as possible, his crew had chosen the lower levels, beneath the engines, in the dingiest, most humid part of the ship to be the best place to drink themselves overcharged.

"It's atmospheric!" Skywarp claimed, talking far louder than necessary. "It's dark and secluded-"

"So's the brig," Megatron reminded him. He hadn't meant it as a threat, but Skywarp taking it as one worked just as well. The seeker made himself scarce.

Swindle was quickly revealed as the culprit behind the high-grade smuggling. Not that Megatron had ever suspected anyone else. He stood between his stockpile and a growing crowd of desperate Decepticons offering up their credits, souls, and future progeny in exchange for a couple of cubes.

"Lord Megatron!" Swindle squeaked, apparently surprised to see him. He thrust a cube out, "On the house!"

Megatron took it with a glare, throwing half of the high-grade back with one gulp. It was strong, from a rich source likely, burning the back of his throat. It was already beginning to charge his systems and slow processor function. It's liquid warmth quickly melting stress away.

It was easy from there out. Swindle was more than ready to swap empty cubes with full ones, terrified of him sobering up enough to remember to punish him. And more than enough Decepticons were keen to join in on his reasoning behind why Starscream was the worst thing to have been inflicted on the universe. He might have even started enjoying himself.

Had he not suddenly been reminded of what a bunch of complete idiots his faction was.

A smash of glass drew his attention. He turned in time to witness Mission being hoisted atop by Soundwave's twins, surrounded by some of the Cambaticons. At first glance it looked like they were playing some sort of betting game and Mission had been offered up as part of the pot. Upon closer inspection, there was a lot of high-grade.

He drew closer without even realising, audials zeroing in on their conversation.

"-ain't gonna kill ya," Vortex was encouraging the youngling, wrapping Mission's servo around a cube. "Don't wuss out."

Brawl then leant across the table, taking hold of Mission's wrist to push the cube against his lips. "It'll sure toughen up your armour, sparkling."

Mission's face scrunched up in protest, and as much as Megatron detested the little demon, he was far too overcharged to reason with a sudden surge of righteous fury. High-grade was as good as poison to sparklings.

His pedes had carried him across the room before he'd really considered what he was going to do.

Mission saw him before the Combaticons did. His wide optics brightened and he dropped the cube as he began to scramble upright. The high-grade split across the table and splattered Brawl. The Combaticon snarled at Mission, huge arm drawing back to take a swing.

In one smooth movement Megatron snatched Mission off the table and kicked it into the Combaticons. Colliding with the table, Brawl's fist swung wide, and he somehow managed to punch himself in the face.

Megatron turned on his heel and left, Mission hanging over his arm like a perplexed cyber-kitten might off a tree branch. No one was stupid enough to question him as he stormed out.

"Where are you taking me?" The youngling demanded about half the ships length and six levels up later.

"To a responsible, _sober_ adult," Megatron growled, ignoring the slur in his own voice as he turned into the corridor leading to the officers quarters. He pressed Soundwave's door com.

The door had barely opened before Megatron was shoving the sparkling into his Second's arms.

"I will _not_ face Starscream after all these years only to have to tell him we've been stupid enough to kill his sparkling!"

"I'm not a spark-!"

"Shut up!" Megatron snapped when Mission began to protest, "I've had it with these ridiculous escapades of yours. I'm not your sire! You're _not_ my responsibility, and I refuse to continue chasing you about this ship like an idiot!"

Mission glared, and Soundwave shifted awkwardly, but neither of them said anything.

"Do not let him out of your sight." He fixed his SIC with a stern glare before leaving them to stare after him.

* * *

One of Shockwave's spies had finally come through with some good news on the whereabouts of the former occupants of the Autobot's Tergar Dare base.

"We have a lead," he was pleased to inform his Commander. "Autobot High Command recently cleared a 'high-profile' relocation to their maximum security facility on the sixth moon of Oune. It may have been Starscream."

Megatron looked thoughtful. "May?"

"There's no way to know for sure, my lord." Shockwave scrolled down the briefing he'd been sent. "I have them working on a way to covertly infiltrate the prison, but-"

"And how long will that take?" His leader snapped.

Shockwave swallowed, "Well we- I estimate a full scope of the facility will take at least three weeks-"

Megatron stood up, and Shockwave knew his commander well enough to take a self-preserving step back. But Megatron turned away from him, servos clasped firmly behind his back.

"Three weeks. Shockwave." He said calmly. Too calmly. "Three weeks before we even know if Starscream is on the moon."

"...Launching a full scale attack on the facility, without the surety that we do in fact, have a prisoner to rescue-"

"Is lunacy," Megatron finished. "I know. But do you know what is worse?"

Shockwave could very well guess what was worse. He'd passed it on his way here, threatening Combaticons with an electric hacksaw he'd likely stolen from the med bay. "Mission." He said simply.

Megatron's shoulder's visibly slumped, "Remind me how wrong it would be to abandon him in an asteroid field. Tell me it wouldn't nearly be as satisfying as it sounds."

Shockwave would be lying if he told his commander that didn't sound at all satisfying. "His penchant for disobedience certainly eclipses that of his creator. It does make one wonder about the sire."

His commander didn't turn around. "The sire," he said darkly, "Indeed."

* * *

The _Nemesis_ had been quiet recently. Too quiet.

Skywarp had reassured Megatron that Mission _was_ still aboard. And functioning. And had even possessed the audacity to have asked if he _wanted_ to see the monster.

Megatron didn't. But there was a phrase an ancient Kaonian warlord had once made famous, "Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer" and Megatron couldn't believe that a hellion like Mission would be innocently recharging in the middle of the night when there was limitless chaos to wreak.

"It's like Starscream all over again," Thundercracker muttered at him, recharge-deprived enough to have the nerve to talk back. "He's not _plotting_ against you. He's just a bored sparkling."

Megatron huffed, too recharge-deprived himself to bother with reproaching him for his tone. They walked the remaining length of the barracks in silence. Skywarp was drooling, snoring, and spread-eagled across his berth in the very definition of undignified, completely unaware of his trine mate's absence. The berth parallel was occupied by a small lump beneath the covers.

Thundercracker raised a brow at him as if to say, 'See'.

But Megatron wasn't fooled quite so easily.

He yanked the covers away to reveal nothing but an assorted pile of junk, expertly arranged to imply the frame of a seekerlet.

Thundercracker's expression didn't even change. "Great." He deadpanned.

Megatron didn't bother with I Told You So.

"Check the engines," he said darkly.

* * *

Mission shook the can of paint before adding a few finishing touches to his creation. The walls of the _Nemesis_ were too tall and wide to be left bare. Of the many homes Mission had shared with his creator, few had been without the colourful and busy artwork of it's native populace. The graffiti had always brightened old and derelict buildings with layers of pictures and slogans in every colour imaginable.

He was just thinking about repeating his work on another section of the bulkhead -perhaps if he worked through the night he could fill the entire corridor- when the slam of a door echoed through the hallway.

Mission hurriedly stuffed the can inside his subspace, but realised as he did that his servos were stained with the same lilac paint that now marred the walls. He could run for it but-

"You!" Megatron's voice bellowed.

Mission slumped, and turned to face his potential doom.

Megatron hadn't noticed the graffiti at first, too distracted with the triumph of having tracked him down perhaps. Mission folded his arms, looking as apathetic as he could when the bright paint finally caught the older mech's optics.

Megatron froze, trailing off as he began to read, "All hail..."

His optics darkened.

'ALL HAIL STARSCREAM' was still leaking down the wall from it's 'M', dripping on the floor at Mission's pedes.

"Like it?" He asked, smirking at the look on Megatron's face.

"What are you, his PR agent?!" Megatron snarled, marching forward to grab one of his arms, sneering as purple paint smudged his own black armour. "You'd better clean this before morning!"

"It's the middle of the night!" Mission protest. "You can't keep me here! I have to recharge!"

"You should have thought of _that_ before you started vandalising my ship!" Megatron snapped, still dragging him towards the nearest supply closet.

"That's hardly fair!"

" _I'm_ not fair."

"Can't you just find a cleaning drone?" Mission huffed, jogging slightly to keep up with Megatron's fast strides, "What am I, a slave?"

Megatron suddenly stopped. Mission would have fallen over from the abrupt change of pace had he not been held up by the servo around his wrist. He glanced up at the older mech. Megatron's armour was tight, his jaw clenched. Somehow he looked even angrier.

"Fine," Megatron growled, releasing him. "Go to bed."

Mission hesitated.

"Go!" Megatron repeated himself, "Before I _change my mind_."

For once, Mission did as he was told.

* * *

Through Megatron's stubborn preference, the _Nemesis_ remained on Tarn City Central Time. Without a sun to mark the passing cycles, only Soundwave's rigorous scheduling kept the ship and it's crew operating in a semi-regular circadian rhythm.

It was the middle of the night. Megatron preferred it this late. The lights were low, the crew were recharging, and the bridge was always empty. It gave him time to think.

Or it would have.

A bright flash of red appeared besides his throne. Megatron would be ashamed to say he jumped. His fusion cannon onlined in an automatic response to the threat.

" _Whatinthe_ -?!"

"Can I see that?" Mission pointed at the glowing weapon.

Spark recovering from the shock of it's life, Megatron frowned. Starscream used to sneak up on him like that. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I could ask the same of you." Mission adopted a superior tone, "Don't old mechs need more recharge?"

Megatron's servos clenched his arm rests, "They say the same of sparklings."

Mission glared at him. He glared back.

"Have you been avoiding me?" The youngling asked eventually, lifting himself atop a monitor. His legs hung off the edge, swinging back and forth.

"Of course I have." Megatron snapped.

"Why?"

"For the sake of my sanity. You're too much like your creator."

That thunderous scowl was back on Mission's face, "And you hate him, don't you?"

"I assure you, the feeling was mutual."

Neither of them spoke for a while, sitting in silence, watching the stars streak like stripes past the bridge's viewport.

"Can I?" Mission's quiet voice finally broke the moment.

Megatron blinked, surprised at the softer tone, "What?"

He caught Mission rolling his optics at him, "Your cannon. Can I see it?"

He shouldn't let his guard down. Not around this youngling. "...Are you going to shoot me with it?"

"Are you going to give me reason to?" Mission fired back.

Megatron had met less argumentative beings among the members of Iacon's senate. He smirked, and began to unlatch the weapon from his arm. Mission jumped down from the monitor eagerly, optics wide and bright and finally reflecting his age.

"This was a gift from your creator, you know," Megatron wasn't sure why he was telling him. "He designed it. Built it. It's never failed me."

"I know," Mission sounded wistful, one servo brushing across the barrel. "He told me..."

"Did he?" Starscream did seem the sort to think tales of political assassin and jailbreaks and developing illegal weaponry were appropriate bedtime stories for sparklings.

Mission nodded, "He rescued you."

That was a rather... censured version of what had happened.

"Yes. He did." Megatron went along with it anyway, watching Mission poke at the cannon's fusion cells, his short nose scrunching up in concentration. Just like Starscream's used to.

He drew the weapon back. "You should be recharging," he said gruffly, reattaching the weapon. "You shouldn't be up half the night talking to me."

"I want to stay" Mission said boldly.

"...Fine," he must be nuts for agreeing, but if Mission was here with him, then he couldn't be out destroying his property. "You can stay."

Mission didn't smile, not really. Lips twitching at the corners, wings lifting ever so slightly higher. He began poking again at the fusion cannon. "So how many rounds does one set of power cells have? Does it take long to charge up? And how powerful is it? Can it blast through durasteel?"

"Come here," Megatron smirked, drawing him closer, "I'll show you."

* * *

Megatron wouldn't go so far as to say he had learnt to _tolerate_ Starscream's little bundle of hate and vengeance, but it helped that Mission found a way to entertain himself without blowing any of his ageing gaskets.

Still, as a matter of personal security Megatron liked to check in on him every other cycle or so. He hadn't forgotten the occasion when Starscream had locked himself away in a lab for a few days only to then reappear wheeling a trolly carrying what he'd described as a 'doomsday machine'.

"Location; Archive." Soundwave only had to briefly scan the security monitors to find the youngling.

Usually, as long as Mission wasn't crawling through any ventilation shafts Megatron didn't feel the need to personally interrogate him. But the archives held an eons worth of information, most of it classified. And Starscream knowing compromising facts is what got Megatron in the situation of babysitting his delinquent offspring in the first place.

To reach the keyboard Mission had to stand on the very edge of the chair. He wasn't alone though. Ravage was laid across the floor beneath the large screen, looking impossibly bored.

Mission didn't acknowledge his entrance. Ravage yawned.

"What are you doing?" He asked, griping the back of Mission's chair to observe the screen, "Researching curse words to liven up your graffiti?"

"Don't tempt me." Mission muttered, scrolling through a list.

Megatron looked closely and realised it was an updated intelligence report, listing all the known Autobot territories in the sector. He sighed. "How long have you been in here?"

Mission didn't answer. But at his pedes Ravage groaned and rolled onto his back. A long time then.

"Here," Megatron turned Mission's chair and lifted him up so he could sit down. The youngling didn't protest as he sat him on the armrest instead, taking control of the computer. He searched for Oune in the system and the archive brought up Shockwave's last report. "This is where we think your creator is."

Mission leant forward to read, "...Uhn?"

"Oune," Megatron corrected, "the planet and it's moons are protected by an intricate minefield. The shielding is set up on the smaller satellites orbiting the planet, making attack difficult. We have to know for sure that Starscream is being held there. If we wasted resources on a pointless infiltration-"

"I know," Mission interrupted quietly. "-If he isn't there and you take fatalities, then you might not have the strength in numbers to try again."

Megatron began to wish Starscream'd had that sort of foresight. His former Air Commander may have been a scientific genius, but tactical warfare wasn't always his forte.

"We will get him back," he reassured the youngling, and was surprised that feelings of revenge weren't at the forefront of his processor for once. "I gave you my word."

Mission leant back against his arm and nodded. On the floor, Ravage began to purr.

* * *

"I think it's adorable," Skywarp said, stood at a safe distance as he and Thundercracker watched Mission trail after Megatron on their way to the _Nemesis's_ bridge. "Like a tiny personal assistant that never does as he's told."

"I give it a day." Thundercracker grunted, already turning back to his daily brief. "They're too alike. They'll be arguing again before noon."

Skywarp smiled, "Hey, do you think Megatron knows?"

Thundercracker glanced up.

"As in _knows_ knows?" Skywarp elaborated.

Thundercracker looked back over to Megatron and Mission, their identical frame structure, and identical movements. The same frown and the same jaw. The same black servos and same broad shoulders.

"No," he went back to his datapad, "He's clueless."

* * *

Soundwave's intelligence unit had reported in with news late last night. He and Shockwave had drawn straws to see who was going to have to tell their commander the latest update. Soundwave lost.

Megatron was in his office, and to Soundwave's surprise, so was Mission. There were datapads strewn across the large desk, some of them projecting star maps and images of galaxies. His commander met his gaze grumpily as he entered.

"We're busy," Mission informed Soundwave snottily, poking at a star map to focus in on one of the planets. Soundwave recognised Cybertron's distinctive landscape.

"Intelligence update," he announced, extending the datafile.

Megatron stood, moving to retrieve it.

"...Classified," Soundwave intoned, glancing towards Mission.

Megatron paused, meeting his gaze, before taking the file. "You," he nodded at Mission, "Out."

Mission slammed his servos against the desk, "What?! But we were just-!"

"We'll finish this later," Megatron's tone left no room for argument. "Go."

They were lucky Mission didn't flip the desk before leaving. As it was, Soundwave had to dance out of the youngling's way as he stormed from the office.

"Good news?" Megatron asked as he went to sit himself back at his desk, opening the file.

Soundwave didn't say either way, but braced himself for the reaction.

Megatron stared at the information and didn't speak for a long time. Soundwave began to worry that he'd actually glitched and gone into stasis

"Soundwave," Megatron voice came out stiffly. "What is this?"

"Intelligence report."

"It says," Soundwave could hear his commander's digits jabbing at the datapad's screen aggressively. "That there has been a breakout. From one of the Autobot's moon based facilities."

"Affirmative."

"And that the escapee... was a seeker."

"Affirmative, Lord Megatron."

" _Soundwave_ ," Megatron's snarling voice was accompanied by the scrapping of a chair as his leader stood. "Was the escapee _Starscream_?!"

"...Affirmative."

" _He broke **himself** out_!?" Megatron exploded, throwing the datapad back at the desk so hard it snapped clean in half. "After all the- we've spent _weeks_ staking out that _Primus_ damned facility- and he just -he just _breaks himself out_?!"

Soundwave could only nod.

"Do you know where he's gone?!" Megatron shouted, beginning to stalk back and forth. "Were they able to track him?"

"Starscream is adept at covering his tracks."

"I'm going to kill him," Megatron pinched the bridge of his nose, "When I get my servos on him I'm going to wring his-"

"Starscream has not left the system," Soundwave was sure, "Mission is aboard the _Nemesis_."

Megatron seemed to consider this point, "He'll be looking for his youngling. He'll assume Mission was where he left him. Petricor?"

Soundwave would have liked to agree. But Mission possessed a rather healthy sense of independence. He knew from experience that the seekerlet never liked to stay put. And this was all assuming Starscream hadn't explicitly _told_ Mission to seek them out should he have been captured.

"Should've have seen this coming," Megatron grumbled to himself. "He's lasted this long on his own already. Given enough time Starscream can wriggle his slimy self out of any situation."

Soundwave chose to ignore the hint of fondness he was hearing in his leader's voice. "Suggestion. Inform Mission of the situation."

"No. The less the little brat knows about this the better. He is all we have to lure that traitor back to us. And I'm not going to let Starscream slip away a second time."

* * *

An encrypted message pinged as it came through to Mission's com. He paused from where he'd been painting anti-Megatron rhetoric across a wall. Only one person in the entire universe had the frequency for his com.

It was short and to the point, typical of Starscream. A blunt demand for his current coordinates.

Mission was tempted to refuse the information. To force his creator to have to send _his_ location instead. But their weeks spent apart cooled his frustration. As irritatingly paranoid as his creator could be, Mission had missed him.

"Where are we?" He pestered a haggard looking Shockwave on the bridge. "What are our current coordinates?"

Shockwave's optic narrowed at him, "Why do you ask?"

"Is even _that_ classified now?"

Shockwave sighed, lifting a servo to point at the navicomputers. "Do as you wish."

Mission glanced over the monitor, taking in their coordinates and their route course, quickly sending them off, back to Starscream's last known frequency.

"Studying astronavigation now, are we?" Megatron's voice asked.

Mission's optics nearly rolled into the back of his helm. Where on Cybertron had Megatron developed this hindering ability to appear whenever he was least wanted.

"Do I need to add 'stalking' to your list of unorthodox vices?" He asked, turning and lifting his chin to meet Megatron's stern gaze.

The high commander's brow drew into a frown, "You have a 'list'?"

Mission waved him off, "I'm just... educating myself."

"Really, now," Megatron's lips drew back into a nasty smile, and Mission fidgeted, wondering if there was something he'd missed. "You've never shown an interest in navigation before."

 _That's because it's boring_ , Mission wanted to say. "You're going to penalise me for showing an interest in a new hobby?"

"Of course not," Megatron scoffed, one large servo landed heavily on Mission's shoulder. "I'm going to do it because you've been communicating with a _traitor."_

Mission flinched as Megatron's servo tightened like a vice, "You _hacked_ my com?!"

"Soundwave did," The old mech began to drag him away from the monitors, "Just in time to see you receive an encrypted message. What did it _say_?"

"Like I'd tell you anything," Mission tried to pull himself away. That failing, he aimed a kick at Megatron's shin.

The Decepticon leader seemed to know him better he'd anticipated though, and suddenly Mission's legs were swinging uselessly in the air, his frame held aloft by one of Megatron's strong arms.

"Where is that traitor hiding?" Megatron snapped, one finger jabbing at Mission's face. "This doesn't have to be unpleasant for you-"

"You do anything to me and I'll make you regret it!" Mission refused to be intimidated, "When my creator gets here he'll-"

Megatron's expression brightened, and Mission realised his mistake a moment too late.

"So the traitor's coming here, is he?"

Mission said nothing.

"Then what?" Megatron smirked, mocking him, "You thought you'd just slip away with him? Fly off to some faraway planet, live _happily ever after_?"

"Jealous?!" Mission spat back.

"Hardly," Megatron dropped him. He landed on his pedes, but his balance was soon thrown again when the larger mech took hold of his scruff bar and began hauling him along. "Don't worry. I'll leave enough of his protoform for you mourn over."

Mission struggled, trying to claw at any part of Megatron he could reach, until he was tossed carelessly through a darkened doorway. He rolled to his pedes, stumbling over a crate. A supply closet. Really?

"You think you can lock me in here?!" He shouted, wings curling inwards, the claustrophobic room already closing in around him. "I'll be out before my creator even enters the system!"

Megatron's silhouetted form smirked at him from the doorway, "You're welcome to try."

The door whooshed shut, enveloping the boxy room in complete darkness. Mission threw a crate at the sealed entrance and swore.

* * *

Moments after Mission transmitted his location, the frequency of his com shut off. Someone had disabled it.

Starscream tapped sharp digits against the bar countertop's worn surface, his other servo swirling a well earned cube of high grade. It had been a long day and frankly, this was the last thing he needed.

He and Mission hadn't been residing on Petricor long when word of the Decepticon's latest recruitment had come through. Before the arrangements to leave could be made, Starscream had run into some unforeseen trouble. He had Megatron's inability to remain inconspicuous to thank for the Autobot presence on the planet.

He had hoped, rather naively, that Mission would have stayed put on Petricor and waited for him. Unlike himself, his son had the virtue of remaining anonymous. Something Starscream had put great effort into. But there had been no sign of his sparkling when he finally returned to the system.

Only whispers of Decepticons.

Starscream gripped his cube tightly, and cracks began to spider beneath his digits.

Megatron had his sparkling, that much was obvious. Mission would have gone to him entirely willingly. Whether he was still there willingly was another question. His ex-commander was clearly luring him into a trap.

Starscream scoffed to himself, throwing back the rest of his cube and tossing a few credits on the bar before standing.

Well, if that old fool thought an ambush was going to keep him from his son, he was sorely mistaken.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been over ten vorns since Starscream had deigned to grace Megatron's beloved warship with his presence. The _Nemesis_ hadn't changed in the least. Nothing from the ships layout to the arrangement of weapons lockers or even all those handy little airlocks hidden away in the underside of it's hull. Nice to know Megatron was still an idiot.

Shields on high to fully cloak his presence from the _Nemesis's_ scanners, Starscream slipped quietly beneath the ship, transforming back into bipedal form. He flipped open a panel beside the airlock and deactivated the sensors before hacking into the access terminal.

The hatch opened with a rush of pressure and Starscream pulled himself inside.

The lower level was deserted. Good. Now all he had to do was locate his sparkling before any of Megatron's grunts were alerted to his presence.

He began to make his way across the ship towards the brig, his journey lengthened considerably by all the unnecessary detours he was forced to take along the way, avoiding cameras, security patrols, and the more high traffic walkways.

He was about half way there when he heard a very distinct tapping.

He paused, listening carefully.

Scratching, muffled cursing, something sparking...

It was coming from inside a storage closet.

Weapons online and set to kill, Starscream slapped the access panel and jumped back, ready to shoot when-

-when a short, dark seeker came tumbling out.

Starscream moved so his null rays weren't pointing at the sparkling's face, as relieved as he was stunned. "Mission?!"

* * *

Someone had altered the locking mechanism on the door. Mission swore to himself as he electrocuted himself for what had to be the fifth time. It was getting difficult to concentrate in the confined space. He knew, logically, that the closet wasn't getting any smaller. But that didn't stop him from hunching as he felt the ceiling loom ever closer, shrinking the already cramped space.

He sucked in a deep breath, willing his spark beat to regulate, clenching his servos to stop them from shaking.

The wire electrocuted him again.

"Fraggit!" He shouted, punching the wall.

What would his creator say, if he ever learnt the reason Mission had failed to warn him of the trap was because he'd gotten himself locked in a closet? That something as stupid and simple as a small, dark room had gotten the better of him?

That's if he ever even saw his creator again-

There was a beep, and the door panel flashed green before sliding open.

Having been leant against it, Mission fell out in an undignified heap. Landing before a very familiar pair of thrusters.

"Mission?!" His creator's voice gasped.

Mission hurriedly wiped his face before looking up in astonishment. Starscream's stunning optics stared back, and he looked just as intimidating and invincible as he had the day they'd been separated. When he'd lowered him onto the window ledge of the floor below, whispering ' _stay_ ' as Autobots came blasting through their doorway. What seemed like vorns ago now.

Mission's spark throbbed, "Creator," he tried to steady his wobbly smile, "I-"

He never had the chance to compose himself. Wordlessly, Starscream pulled him into a firm embrace. Unused to the affection, Mission hesitated before reciprocating, wrapping his arms around his creator's warm frame, burying his face against Starscream's glossy armour. He still smelt like polish. Mission bizarrely wondered if the Autobot's had let him keep up his ridiculous beauty regime whilst in their captivity.

The perfect moment ended as Starscream pulled away to look at him fondly, and without preamble his creator drew back a servo and smacked him around the back of the helm.

 _Hard_.

"Ow! What the-?"

"How could you be so reckless?" his creator demanded angrily. "What on Cybertron possessed you-?"

"I was _trying_ to rescue you!" Mission defended himself, glaring right back at his creator. He couldn't believe he'd actually missed him. They been together all of half a minute and he was already trying to lecture him.

"It's not your job to rescue me," Starscream stood from where he'd knelt to embrace him. "I told you to stay hidden. To stay _safe._ And what do you do?"

"I didn't _plan_ this."

"That much is obvious," his creator rolled his optics, reaching out and taking one of Mission's servos.

As much as Mission detested holding hands, his creator's armour was warm, comforting. He tightened his grip, reluctant to let go any time soon. Maybe ever again. He wanted to tell Starscream he'd missed him, but his creator wasn't particularly receptive to admissions of sentimentality.

"Megatron has set a trap for you," he said instead, "He was using me as bait, locked me in the closet-"

Starscream stopped, helm snapping towards him, the grip on his servo tightening to the point that it was almost painful, " _He_ locked you in there?"

"Yes," Mission scowled, turning away from his creator, "You _did_ say he was idiot."

His creator didn't answer. Eventually Mission looked back at him, wondering at the odd expression on Starscream's face. "What?" He asked cautiously.

"You didn't tell him." His creator guessed. "Did you?"

Mission felt his face warm considerably. He shrugged.

"I thought you would have." Starscream was smirking now. "What, with it being so _terrible_ living with _me_."

Mission's scowl deepened, his cheeks now so hot they were almost glowing. "I don't need a sire." He muttered, staring at the floor as they walked. "I have you."

"That's a shame," his creator carried on casually, teasing. "The two of you are _so_ alike, I'd thought-"

"That's not true!" Mission yelled, nearly yanking his servo free. "Don't compare me to him!"

His creator's smile was tight, self-satisfied. "No, of course you're not," he cooed sarcastically, "Such a calm, mild-mannered sparkling like you."

"I don't know what you ever saw in him," Mission continued, because it was something that had been baffling him ever since he'd laid optics on the infamous warlord. "He's hardly a worthy leader."

"He excels in other areas," he heard his creator mutter under his breath. Whatever that meant.

"Lets just go," Mission quickened his pace to better keep up with his creator's longer strides. They turned another corner, "Before that fossilised piece of scrap-"

His creator came to a sudden halt, jarring Mission. He glanced up to see what the holdup was, and sighed heavily.

"-before _he_ catches us." He finished, mustering as hateful a look as he could at the figure blocking their escape. Megatron.

"Welcome back," the warlord rumbled, optics fixed on his creator. Mission could see how his frame was taunt, armour locked defensively, fusion cannon held ever so slightly aloft. He was ready for a fight.

"If you want him you're going to have to go through me!" Mission shouted with bravo, moving to shield his creator. "I won't let you-"

"Don't be ridiculous," he creator breathed exasperatedly, and yanked him back behind him, making him look a complete fool in front of Megatron. He could feel another blush rising.

"You won't be getting away this time, traitor," Megatron said coldly. His cannon began to glow. "You or your precious spawn."

" _Spawn_?!" His creator's optics flashed like incoming missiles. Before anyone could do anything Starscream lifted his null ray and shot Megatron straight in the face. The universally renowned warlord hit the ground like a wet rag.

It was the single greatest thing Mission had ever witnessed.

* * *

Megatron should have seen that coming. Maybe he had gotten soft with age, lowered his guard in Starscream's absence.

Sprawled on his back, limbs numb, optics spinning in his helm, he began to hear the furious seeker's approach.

"How _dare_ you speak to my sparkling like that!"

Megatron groaned, willing his frame to reboot quicker, get him to his pedes before Starscream could gain the upper hand.

The tip of a null ray swung into view, almost brushing the end of his nose. Too late, he realised.

His unfocused optics looked past the extended weapon and into the seeker's face, Starscream's stunningly jewel-like optics narrowed, flawless, dark face hard and unforgiving. He looked every bit as beautiful as he had the night Megatron had last seen him. The night he'd _left_.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't blast your optics out, you oversized trash compactor," Starscream said coldly, jabbing him with his weapon. "You threaten _my_ sparkling-"

"Hardly a sparkling, creator," Mission's dejected voice mumbled.

"Like you need an excuse," Megatron snarled back, mouth still numb from the stun setting on the seeker's weapon. "Nice to see you haven't changed. Shooting a mech when his guard's down."

Provoked, a second null ray joined the first. Starscream stepped closer, mile-long legs parted on either side of Megatron's waist. "Aren't you just a _pillar_ of honour and compassion," he hissed, "Locking a defenceless sparkling in a _closet_ -"

"Defenceless?" Megatron could just about see Mission lurking beyond his creator's wings, his own weapons cocked threateningly. "You must be joking."

A thruster planted itself in the centre of Megatron's chest, and pressed down. The seeker's weight wasn't anywhere near considerable enough to pin him to the floor, but Megatron didn't need to let him know that. Not yet.

He let Starscream continue to posture, leaning over him.

A nasty smirk curled the seeker's mouth, almost playful, he asked, "You thought I'd be offline by now, didn't you?"

"I'd hoped." Megatron huffed.

Starscream's expression darkened, his smirk slipping away. He shifted his footing, leant too far forwards. It was as good an opportunity as any.

Megatron struck out and grasped the barrel of Starscream's weapon. He yanked it to the side, pulling the seeker off balance and knocking his legs out from under him. He caught a glimpse of Starscream's bright optics widening in horrified surprise as the seeker landed on his knees. Megatron rolled, dragging Starscream beneath him, pinning the seeker's wrists to the floor.

Starscream stared up at him, intakes working hard, rising cockpit brushing Megatron's chest with every deep breath.

He couldn't help himself, tiny smirk curving his mouth, "...Haven't we been here before?"

Starscream didn't find it funny. Screeching like some unholy Moon-Banshee, he surged up against him, arms twisting as they tried to break his grip. The dark satisfaction of finally having the traitor helpless and within his grasp was short lived though.

"Get up," a young voice ordered, and the end of another null ray tapped the side of Megatron's helmet. "And release my creator."

Out of the corner of his optic he could see the setting on Mission's weapon. Unlike Starscream's, it wasn't set to stun.

"You're not going to shoot me," he told the youngling.

Mission's face scrunched itself into a scowl. "Don't embarrass yourself." He poked Megatron again. "You've got until the count of five before I fry your dusty old processor."

Megatron didn't even have to respond. The air turned static milliseconds before the corridor filled with bright crackling lilac. Mission span on the spot, ready to shoot Skywarp and any reinforcements he might have brought before he too could be restrained.

A tactical prodigy the youngling may have been, it was a testament to his youth that he was naive enough to turn his back on the biggest threat in the vicinity. Megatron only needed one servo to keep Starscream down.

Mission fired three times before Megatron got hold of his scruff bar. The youngling yelped as he was hauled backwards. Overbalancing, he landed on his aft with a sharp clunk. Thundercracker snatched him up, swiftly deactivating and detaching his nullrays, tossing them to Skywarp.

"Hey Screamer," the purple seeker called cheerfully over Mission's indignant sputtering, "Looking good."

Starscream, still sandwiched between Megatron and the floor, spat out a few choice Vosian phrases at him. Thundercracker looked appalled, probably fighting the urge to cover Mission's audials.

"Take this one to the brig," Megatron ordered as Soundwave came forward to lock Starscream's wrists in stasis-cuffs, hauling him to the pedes. True to form, the seeker made it as awkward as possible, almost kneeing Megatron in the groin as they stood.

"What about Mission?" Thundercracker asked, "You can't put him in the brig."

Megatron could, but Thundercracker's tone implied mutiny if he were to try. Seekers tended to be soft when it came to little ones, and despite his apparent apathy, Thundercracker was no exception.

"Keep hold of him," He decided, compromising for now. "I'll deal with him later."

He may have come off a little too threatening. Starscream kicked out, nearly breaking Soundwave's leg, "You _touch_ my sparkling-!"

"Get rid of him!" Megatron snapped at his Second, gesturing for his seekers to do the same with Mission. The sooner the too psychos were separated the better.

* * *

They took Mission down to the barracks. Safety in numbers, Skywarp had said.

"Ow! Will you-" Skywarp cringed as Mission pulled his arm in an unnatural angle, gears straining, "Quit it!"

Not that any of their fellow seekers bothered to help.

"Let go of me, you traitors!" Mission shouted, and Thundercracker narrowly missed getting backhanded across the face. "Let _go_!"

"Traitors?" Thundercracker's wondered aloud. "What are you-?"

Mission whirled around, angry face flushed purple, "You're supposed to be his trine! You're supposed to protect him! Instead you're just going to let Megatron lock him up! Torture him!"

Skywarp began to shush him. Sympathy written across every feature of his face he reached to coddle the seekerlet. Mission tried to claw at his wings as soon as they were in reach.

Skywarp shrieked, "TC!" He wailed, "Get him-!"

"That's _enough_!" Thundercracker was losing his patience. He caught Mission's wrists and pulled him away from his trine mate. "Stop it. What are you talking about? We didn't betray Starscream, and Megatron's _not_ going to torture him."

Mission sniffed, looking aside, "Don't lie to-"

Thundercracker shook him slightly, "Look at me. No, _look_ at me."

Mission did, albeit reluctantly. Optics watery and ready to spill.

"Megatron will forgive Starscream." He said firmly, "He always does."

Mission began to shake his helm, bottom lip wobbling. "No, you don't understand. He said-"

"You have to trust us." Thundercracker told him gently, and felt the tension begin to leave the youngling's tiny shoulders. Mission was far too young to be so high-strung. He squeezed him comfortingly, pushing a smile to his lips. "Everything's going to be okay."

Defeated, Mission nodded, chin dropping to his chest just as tears began to fall.

He moved to draw him in for a quick, reassuring embrace; when the youngling was suddenly yanked from his servos and somehow encased in the unbreakable grasp of Skywarp's arms. His trine mate grinned at him victoriously, crushing the sparkling against him.

Mission made a muffled noise of protest, but couldn't break free.

"I'm never letting go," Skywarp whispered over the top of the sparkling's helm, "Never."

Thundercracker sighed. Typical.

* * *

"Really Megatron," Starscream said, bolted to the wall of a dark cell, arms restrained above his helm. "I know you've missed me, but isn't this a bit much?"

His Ex-Commander was little more than a glowing pair of red optics on the far side of the tiny square prison. He hadn't said anything since Soundwave had left. Starscream was used to getting the silent treatment. Mission did it too, would rather just stare in hateful silence than actually engage in an argument with him.

He preferred arguments. Arguments he could win.

"It's not much of an interrogation if I'm the only one talking, you know?" It was getting difficult just standing there, unable to move save for the twitching of fingers and wing tips. Unable to think of much but Mission and wherever they'd hidden him away, and what they might do to him.

Because Megatron still didn't _know_.

"I'm disappointed," he finally said. "I had been hoping for a more animated reunion. Don't tell me old age has-"

Megatron stood.

Finally, he thought, watching the warlord step into shuttered light.

"Your disappearance had always been one of those great mysteries," Megatron's deep voice was surprisingly even, his optics cool and dim. "But it was hardly a surprise."

He cocked an optical ridge, "Oh really?"

"You've always been a traitor, Starscream."

Starscream didn't see any reason to contradict blatant truth.

"I know you looked for me," he said instead. He still remembered those early days, homeless and panicked. Half the known galaxy on his tail. A tiny speck of light his only company.

Megatron's mouth twitched, "Forget your sentimental delusions. You were AWOL. The last time you wandered off you came back with an army of clones programmed solely to deactivate me."

Starscream shrugged, "And this time I came back with just one."

"If only he _was_ a clone." Megatron snapped.

Starscream watched huge servos curl into fists. Mission was clearly a point of contention between them.

"So," Starscream was now glad his restraints prevented movement as apprehension bred the urge to fidget. "I supposed those brilliant deductive skills of yours have led you to the truth."

Megatron stared down at him, and he looked so certain, so smug, that Starscream almost believed he'd misheard when he said-

"You eloped. Ran off with the sire of that brat of yours." He narrowed his optics at Starscream, "An Autobot, no doubt."

Dumbstruck by the sheer idiocy of the theory, and disgust at the idea of being with an _Autobot_ , Starscream couldn't find the words to correct him.

"I thought so," Megatron looked as satisfied as he did miserable. Stupid, delusional, self-deprecating moron he was. "What happened to the sire? Do the carriers of your kind consume them for fuel after sparking?"

"I wish I _had_ consumed him for fuel!" Starscream snarled at him. "I still might! Just when I thought you couldn't be any _stupider_ -!"

"So he's still alive," Megatron growled. "Where is he? Tell me and I may be inclined to exercise mercy, for your sparkling at least."

Starscream stared at the fierce, furious, envious warlord before him. "You're jealous," he realised, stunned. "You're _jealous_?!"

He spotted a glimpse of panic Megatron wasn't quick enough to hide, "Don't be ridiculous!"

But he was.

Of the thousands of years they had worked together, fought together, led together, they had spent all of one night together. A mistake. An accident. A serious error of judgment that had resulted in something irreparable, something impossible to hide. Something that had left him with no option but to abandon everything he'd known and run. And after all that, Megatron had _missed_ him?

Starscream had never felt so tired.

"I didn't elope," he admitted, focusing on anything but Megatron's idiotic face as he forced the words through gritted denta. "I was _already_ carrying."

He thought that would be enough. He could just drop it there and his blockheaded leader would put two and two together and he'd never have to say it out loud.

Megatron did _not_ put two and two together.

"Oh, I _see_!" He hissed, suddenly furious. "A new low, even for you. That was the condition of your treachery then? A good 'face in exchange for classified information? Then you got yourself sparked and had nowhere to hide! Just when I thought you couldn't prove yourself anymore a traitor-!"

Starscream could only assume that his many years of absence had allowed Megatron plenty of time to obsess over his disappearance, rather than just eventually get over it like a normal mech would. He'd convinced himself of an improbable theory, that his missing Second was an informant turned slut, that he'd been to cowardly to own up to the consequences of his betrayal.

It was partly true, but Starscream had never seen anyone miss the point by such a wide margin.

"Oh, for the love of Primus," he rolled his optics so hard it felt like they'd fall out. "Are you _blind_?!"

Megatron sneered at him, "Evidently not-"

"Have you _seen_ my sparkling?!" Starscream cut him of, leaning away from his restraints, wishing he could grab Megatron's shoulders and just shake him. "Have you _looked_ at him?!"

"I've seen far too much of that pest!" Megatron snapped back.

"And he's half Autobot, is he?" Starscream hoped to Primus that, for his own sake, Megatron didn't say yes. "He looks like a fragging Autobot?!"

The old wardlord's mouth twitched, "He looks like you."

"He _looks_ ," Starscream began slowly. "Like _you_."

Megatron didn't move, didn't explode in a thoroughly entertaining manner like Starscream had hoped he would. "You're trying to trick me." He said evenly.

Starscream kept his gaze and waited.

"It's impossible." Megatron said again, but some frustration had started to creep into his voice. "I never-"

Starscream arched a brow at him.

"-He'd be too young," Megatron quickly changed tactic, no doubt drawing on some selective memory.

"He's exactly the right age and you know it."

Megatron snorted, "Primus only knows how many potential sires that little monster has."

" _Don't_ call your-!"

"He's not mine!"

"I wish he wasn't yours either!" Starscream shouted back, because really, life would have been infinitely easier had Mission been anyone else's. "He deserves better than a rusty old fool who can't even admit-"

"Then why did you _leave_?!" Megatron stalked across the cell and was stood so close now that Starscream could feel his intakes release across his wings.

He shuddered, "Why do you _think_?"

"You're a liar," Megatron's servo closed around his jaw. "And a traitor," he growled. His servo began to squeeze, "and you _stole my son."_

"What was I supposed to do?" Starscream glared. " _Tell you_ -"

"YES!" Megatron bellowed, he squeezed so hard his digits were going to leave dents. "What right did you have? To keep this from me? To take him away from me?!"

"You don't even like sparklings!" Starscream exclaimed. Because he _didn't_. Mission's disastrous stay was proof enough of that.

"Neither do you!"

Starscream shut his mouth quickly. Megatron had him there.

Megatron finally released him, glaring as he watched him work his jaw back and forth, bringing the feeling back to the abused plating. "You can rust down here for all I care." He sneered, "but you'll crawl your way out of those restraints before the end of the stellar cycle."

"So it's an execution, is it?" Starscream asked casually, "I wonder what our sparkling will think of that?"

Megatron huffed and turned away, punching in the code for the cell lock.

"Where are you going?"

Megatron didn't turn back, "To see him."

"He hates you," Starscream reminded him casually. "And don't think I was the only one keeping this from you."

Megatron glanced back at him.

"What can I say? He's a liar," Starscream smirked, "Must have gotten that from me..."

* * *

Megatron burst into the barracks with a slam, his menacing aura sending the Air Force scurrying out of the danger zone. From across the room his bright steely optics locked onto Mission like a target about to be destroyed, and his strides quickened, bowling over any seeker stupid enough not to get out of the way.

Mission met his gaze with fierce determination, pushing away both Skywarp and Thundercracker even though they were the only other seekers in the entire universe that might have been willing to defend him against their leader, even though his spark was a panicked drum inside it's chamber. He wasn't frightened of Megatron. He wasn't. _He wasn't._

"Where's my creator!" He demanded, loudly, his voice shaking as Megatron drew closer but didn't slow his advance. He began stumbling back. "What have you done with him!?"

Megatron ignored his questions, reaching for him.

"You deceitful little brat!" He hissed, incensed, servo like a vice around his wrist. "You _liar._ You-!"

Thundercracker was almost between them, deep voice calm, "Wait-"

He was shoved aside easily. Mission tried to look at him but Megatron pulled him away, yanking his attention back. "You _knew_ didn't you?!"

"I- I-" Embarrassment began to curtail his fear. He felt his cheeks brighten with energon and he stumbled over his words. "He told- _he told_ you?!"

"He did." Megatron snarled, and began to drag him back towards the door.

Mission fought against his grip, thrusters skidding against the floor uselessly, his struggles inconsequential compared to Megatron's size and strength; but apparently just enough to be annoying.

Two servos slipped under his arms and lifted him effortlessly. He kicked his legs against nothing but air as he was tucked under one huge arm in a secure and mortifying position. He started clawing at the arm holding him, the black of his servos scuffing up Megatron's silver-grey forearm, his claws nowhere near strong enough to damage armour so thick.

"You can't _do_ this to me!" He yelled, voice sharpening in pitch as it grew louder and louder. "Put me down! _Put me **down**_ **!"**

He arm around him tightened just enough to punctuation Megatron's barked, "Be _silent!"_

His next protests caught in his vocaliser, his chest tight with too many emotions all blurring together in a confusing disaster of betrayal and humiliation and fury and-

He wasn't frightened though. He wasn't frightened of Megatron.

"Are you going to kill me?" He asked, quietly, optics watching the floor they passed over.

Megatron didn't answer.

"I want to see my creator," he spoke a little louder, wriggling again. If they were going to be offlined, him or his creator or both of them, then he wanted to say goodbye at least. "I _said_ I want to-!"

"I heard what you said." Megatron answered coldly.

They were in a corridor lined with heavy bolted doors now. Cells. Small cells probably. He swallowed thickly as Megatron began to slow, and looked up to see Soundwave waiting for them.

Mission waited in tense silence to hear his fate. Megatron's grip loosened as he lifted him out from under his arm, and Mission found himself being handed over, into Soundwave's gentler arms.

"Take him to my quarters," Megatron told his officer, and Mission's spark leapt with surprise. "Guard the door from the inside. Make sure he doesn't break anything."

As if Mission would have sunk to that level. He sneered as Soundwave began to take him away, flicking a wing in disgust.

"Break anything." He muttered to Soundwave, once he was _sure_ that Megatron was out of audial range. "What am I. A sparkling?"

His jailor didn't answer, and Mission was sure that behind the visor he was rolling his optics.

* * *

Megatron had no memory of his own creator. He was sure, if he'd had one to remember, they would have been kind. They would have been patient. Gentle. Compassionate. Forgiving.

A list of everything Starscream was not.

And as hard as it had been to get his processor around the idea that Starscream had sparked and _raised_ a youngling, it was tenfold the struggle to think of himself as someone's Sire. That he could be responsible for an _entire_ new life. That he might have managed to make this fierce, _brilliant_ little sparkling.

He scrubbed a servo across his face, leaning against the wall facing the door to Starscream's cell. The seeker was gloating in there, no doubt. Defeated, helpless, and chained to the wall- and he'd be gloating. Perhaps this had been Starscream's true endgame, to raise the perfect weapon in their son- someone strong enough to finally win him the Decepticon throne.

Except Mission wasn't a threat yet, as much as the little brat thought he was.

Megatron shook his helm. The idea was ridiculous.

He hoped.

He pushed off the wall and entered the access code. The cell beeped to admit him. Starscream was where he'd left him, helm tilted against his arm. He looked tired, rather than smug.

"Back so soon," he murmured, barely lifting his helm to meet Megatron's optics.

"I'm going to release you," he answered.

That got Starscream's attention. He straightened, lips parting. "...You are?"

Megatron nodded, "We're going to talk." His digit lingered over the release on the stasis cuffs before he pressed it.

They dropped with a heavy clunk between their pedes. Slowly, Starscream lowered his arms.

"I want to see my sparkling first." Starscream rubbed at his wrists, "Make sure you haven't hurt him."

"He's fine. You can see him later."

"No," Starscream's optics blazed, " _Now_."

"I said," Megatron caught his wrist just as he saw the seeker begin to raise it, servo curled into a fist. " _Later_."

Starscream pulled against his grip at first, his frame held taunt, like rubber about to snap. Megatron could feel the pulse of his spark beneath his servo, a steady deepening rise, a rhythm to match his own. He could see his own reflection in the seeker's optics, locked in a glare that felt like it'd never end under the weight of mutual stubbornness. Mutual hate.

His own fist clenched, ready. Because Starscream always struck first.

"Are you going to hit me?" The seeker hissed, leaning in, goading him. "Are you going to _teach me a lesson_?"

Desire swarmed to life, fuelled by aggression and frustration and-

Starscream surged upwards just as Megatron dipped to meet him, and they met somewhere in the middle. Starscream bit him, and he hissed, servos grasping the seeker's hips and pinning him against the cell wall. Claws racked down his back, scraping paint and scoring the derma beneath. Megatron moaned into his mouth, pushing back as Starscream kissed him even harder, almost desperate-

A sudden force against his shoulders sent him stumbling back, optics shooting back online.

"Primus-dammit!" Starscream exclaimed, furiously wiping his mouth on the back of his servo. His optics were wide and panicked, cheeks bright. He shook clenched fists, "You- You and your stupid-!"

Megatron stayed where he was, servos open and empty, the warmth of Starscream's plating lingering. His mouth was wet, bottom lip throbbing from where he'd been bitten. His glossa swept across it.

"How dare you-!" Starscream couldn't seem to look at him. His intakes were overcompensating, almost hitching as they cycled too much air. He'd backed himself into the far corner, wiping at his armour at if it'd come into contact with something contagious. "How- Ugh!"

Megatron watched him and swallowed thickly. Starscream had tasted like polish. He recognised it. An expensive brand from some far off world. He remembered licking it off the seeker's wings one night long ago. A wave of heat rushed through his frame. The flavour was stuck to his glossa.

Damn it all. He still wanted it.

"Starscream," he rumbled, his voice noticeably deeper. He cleared his vocaliser. "Star-"

"Don't," Starscream held up a servo. The other he used to cover his face. "Don't say anything. Don't even look at me."

Megatron lowered his gaze, channeling his frustration into something more productive. Like annoyance. He clenched his jaw as he looked back up.

"Seduction won't work this time," he growled, but the warmth curling in the depths of his tank only grew when Starscream hatefully met his gaze. "I'm not some hapless Autobot you can flutter your wings at in exchange for freedom."

Starscream sniffed, lip curling, but he didn't deny anything. Megatron had never wanted to squeeze the seeker's slender neck as much as he did then.

He doubted Mission would approve much if he presented him with a throttled creator though. If Megatron wanted to win the youngling over to his side anywhere in the near future he'd better start appealing himself to the little hellion.

He stepped to the side and pointed at the door. "Walk."

Starscream glared at him for almost as long as it took for Megatron's patience to wear out before moving, just a hint of a smirk crossing his deceitful mouth.

They walked in tense silence. Starscream's high thruster heels clicking sharply, almost deliberately, against the steel flooring. He kept himself half a step ahead of Megatron, hips sashaying ostentatiously.

Megatron had forgotten how annoying Starscream could be simply _existing_.

He could still taste that polish.

* * *

Megatron led him to the officer's quarters. Starscream's gaze lingered as they passed the room that had once belonged to him. He wondered who Megatron had given it too; who had been made Air Commander in his absence. Not likely Skywarp. Thundercracker maybe. Hopefully not one of those idiot Coneheads.

They came to stop before Megatron's residence. Starscream's tank rolled as he watched him enter the code. If the old fool thought he could win him over with a good frag he was-

The door opened, and Starscream's spark lightened at the sight of his sulking sparkling.

Mission glanced up, wings arching high. "Creator?!"

Soundwave stepped aside so Mission could fling himself across the room at him. Starscream let him throw his arms around his legs, smiling down at the top of his sparkling's helm as Mission pressed into him.

"Are you alright?" His sparkling stared up at him seriously, face scrunched up with concern. "You're not hurt are you?"

Starscream laid his servo over Mission's shoulder, "Fine." He said stiffly, cautiously watching Megatron dismiss Soundwave, sealing the door to his quarters behind him. "You?"

Mission nodded, and poked his helm around to glance at Megatron.

"As you can see, nothing is broken." He told the older mech, sounding resentful. "I managed to refrain myself."

"I can see," Megatron replied tonelessly, still stood at the door. He looked incredibly awkward for a mech stood in his own quarters. "You've seen him," he told Starscream, "Now-"

"No," Mission's servos gripped Starscream's armour hard enough to hurt. "You're not separating us."

Megatron's expression darkened, but Starscream was already carefully working his sparkling's digits out from the grooves in his armour they'd dug into. "You can let go now," he arched a brow at Mission, disapproving. "I'm not going anywhere."

Behind them, Megatron snorted, as if Starscream was going to have any say in the matter.

"I thought you wanted to talk?!" He snapped at him.

Megatron was still frowning, "Do you really think it's appropriate for the sparkling-?"

"Use his _name_ ," Starscream hissed, fuel burning in its lines. "I gave him that name, you're going to damn well use it."

"Yet another thing I wasn't consulted on," Megatron wasn't at all subdued by his aggression, or the presence of their youngling. "A minor insult compared to the way you raised him."

Starscream might have lunged at his former commander had Mission not been standing conveniently between them, watching them with a mix of what seemed like both fear and awe. He clenched his fist, wishing he still wore a weapon to fire at the old fool.

"The way _I raised him_?!"

"Or did you?!" Megatron raised his arms up, "Did anyone?! The little brat hasn't a _byte_ of respect in his entire frame!"

"And where the Pit do you think he got that from?!" Starscream shrieked, because after years of living with it, he knew. " _Your_ faulty- _fragging_ coding-!"

"Me?!" Megatron bellowed. " _I'm_ the one with faulty coding?! When it was _your_ dysfunctional creator-protocols that _screwed him up in the first place_?!"

"You're one to talk about dysfunctional protocols," Starscream's claws curled in anticipation of shredding the delicate cables of Megatron's throat to shrapnel. "You're the _lunatic_ that locked him in a closet!"

Megatron took a step towards him, and Starscream matched his advance, wings folding back defensively, when a voice from below shouted.

"Excuse me?!"

He glanced down.

Between them, and likely moments from being stepped on, Mission glowered, equally annoyed at them both. "This insanity had better not be hereditary."

Starscream narrowed his optics.

"It is." Megatron's voice echoed his own.

They glared at each other again.

"You're _both_ terrible parents," Mission complained, pouting at the floor. "I wish I was an orphan."

Having heard that a hundred times over the years, Starscream just rolled his optics. "Don't give your Sire any ideas," he sneered at Megatron, who was still visibly flinching at being referred to as such, like being someone's sire was an terminal disease. Not that it wasn't, in many ways.

"I'm sure Skywarp would be more than willing to adopt you as his own," Megatron recovered enough to threaten.

Mission's cringe was confirmation enough as to what kind of suffocating coddler Starscream had always suspected Skywarp of being. One of the pros he had convinced himself of in making the decision to raise Mission away from the Decepticons- no soft-sparked trine to spoil and overindulge his sparkling.

"I want his coding tested," Megatron announced out of the blue. Starscream stared at him, wishing his optics could fire like lasers and melt his arrogant face off. "I have to be certain. Even if this _isn't_ one of your tricks, Primus knows how many potential sires-"

"Oh, shut up." he snapped, "You can have your pointless test, but if you're going to accuse me of promiscuity-"

Megatron's jaw twitched, "I wasn't implying-"

"You implied plenty," Starscream muttered, looking back down to Mission. His sparkling wore an expression of confused curiosity. Starscream resigned himself to that fact that he'd getting interrogated about what 'promiscuous' meant later. He nudged the youngling towards his sire, "Let's get this over with."

Megatron moved to unlock the door but Mission hung back, suspicious. "Where are we going?"

Starscream braced himself for the upcoming meltdown before responding, "...The medic."

As predicted, Mission took five rapid steps back, "What? No! There's nothing wrong with me!"

"It's just a test!" Starscream struggled to get hold of him without compromising his dignity. He was reluctant to let Megatron witness him being outmanoeuvred by a sparkling. "Don't make me chase you!"

Mission didn't give two bolts about his creator's dignity. He ran behind the desk, using it to his tactical advantage.

Impatient and completely unamused by the commotion he likely suspected was just a delay tactic, Megatron came stamping back over. Rather than running around after their delinquent son, he roughly shoved the desk out of the way and lifted Mission out by his scruff bar with what looked like practiced ease.

Starscream didn't have to imagine how much of a nuisance Mission must have made himself the past few weeks.

"What is _wrong_ with him?" Megatron demanded, adjusting the struggling sparkling against his side as they stepped from the room. "He's shaking."

"He's frightened," Starscream said, feeling a twinge of sympathy, even if Mission was being irrational.

"Frightened?" Megatron looked completely flummoxed, "Of what?"

"He's lying!" Mission wriggled violently, "I am not!"

"The medic," Starscream dismissed his outburst. "Obviously."

"Why on Cybertron would he be frightened of a medic?" Megatron demanded, looking suspicious.

Mortified, Mission hid his blush against his sire's shoulder.

Starscream wanted to slap a servo to his face, "Because he's a _sparkling."_

Megatron's face was a picture, frozen with surprise. Slowly he turned back to Mission, who remained resolutely unresponsive. "Oh." He said.

Starscream's stare rolled towards the ceiling. It was looking more and more like he had done his sparkling a great favour in raising him away from his sire's oblivious influence.

* * *

If anyone asked, Skywarp was not using Thundercracker's security login to spy on their High Commander.

He was using it to spy on Starscream as well.

"So what do you think's gonna happen?" He span in his chair, growing bored. Megatron had taken his illegitimate offspring and onetime fling into the medical bay where sadly, there were no security feeds to try and ogle over.

Thundercracker, who had insisted on having no interest in spying on anyone, yet had come with him anyway, shrugged. "They're angry."

"So you don't think they'll agree on joint custody?"

"Skywarp," Thundercracker sounded like he was explaining something very simple to someone very dumb. "When has Starscream _ever_ shared?"

The question brought Skywarp back to when he was just an adolescent, a first year student at the Royal Academy of Military Sciences and recently aquatinted with the 'honour student' who had spitefully refused to share his text-file on the first day of Tactical Manoeuvres because he'd forgotten his own.

Skywarp's energon boiled. "He wouldn't even let me _look_ at the chapter on Alien Topography!"

"If he can't share a datapad how do you expect him to share a sparkling?"

"Yeah, I guess," Skywarp propped his chin up on the monitor, feeling miserable, "Maybe if they made another one...?"

Thundercracker shuttered his optics, physically recoiling at the suggestion, "Thanks for that mental image, Warp."

"You're welcome."

* * *

Hook hadn't changed much. He still remembered Starscream well enough to be both horrified and disgusted by his sudden appearance.

"You- you're-" he fumbled, "When did-?"

Megatron ignored him, "I need you to run my code against the sparkling's." He ordered, striding past the gawping medic.

Mission was still captive in his arms, Megatron having angrily denied Starscream's request to carry him himself, regardless of how difficult Mission was making it for him, nibble black digits pulling and yanking on anything that looked remotely delicate within his reach. Megatron grimaced and endured, but looked as though he would rather suffer than allow either one of them out of his sight for a moment.

"Why do I have to do this?" Mission had complained the entire journey and was showing no sign of giving in anytime soon. Starscream hadn't given Megatron's patience enough credit in the past. "I don't want to be your son anymore than you want to be a sire. Can't we just pretend-"

"No." Megatron plonked himself down on the nearest berth, looking incredibly exasperated for someone who'd only been a parent for little over an hour.

 _You've got no idea_ , Starscream thought vindictively, reclining across the berth opposite, _you think it's hard now? Just you wait till the little parasite starts worming his way into your spark_.

And if there was one thing Starscream knew about Megatron, it was that he grew easily attached, and tended to be rather possessive. Whether the pair of them ever learnt to like one another or not, Megatron was never going to let Mission go.

As he was quite literally displaying now. Starscream smirked, watching as Mission planted both pedes on Megatron's chest and _pushed_ against his sire's arm with all his might. And didn't budge it an inch.

"Creator!" The sparkling shouted, both infuriated at his amusement and terrified of the approaching medic. "Don't just let them-!"

Hook, who must have been lucky enough not to have been exposed to his sparkling before today, smiled reassuringly. He held a long syringe used for taking samples of energon from fuel lines, where it was saturated in microscopic trans-nanites developed by the frame to help clear the fuel of impurities. It was a basic piece of medical equipment, and the least invasive method for testing coding.

Mission was staring at it like Hook planned to stab it through his optic.

"Come one step closer with that thing and your face becomes a dart board!" He threatened.

Hook backed off quickly.

"No it won't," Megatron huffed, taking hold of Mission wrist and holding it out for the medic. Mission squeezed his servos into fists and shoved his face against Megatron's side, flushed face rapidly loosing colour.

Hook moved quickly, drawing the energon with steady servos. Megatron let go as soon as he was finished. Mission yanked his arm back, looking over at Starscream with an expression of utmost betrayal as he rubbed his wrist.

Meanwhile Hook was already taking Megatron's sample, without half as much fuss.

Starscream laid back as Hook entered both samples into the scanner, thinking about what he would do with the positive match when it came through. He'd have to keep it, of course. If only to remind Megatron of his complete and utter Wrongness. He'll have Hook print out a hard copy. Have it framed maybe. Hang it on the wall.

"My Lord," Starscream sat up at the sound of Hook's voice. He was holding a datafile.

Megatron took it in silence. Next to him Mission leant across to read for himself.

"Match positive," his sparkling read aloud, sounding underwhelmed.

"Well, well, well," Starscream slid to his pedes, more than ready to gloat from now until Mission reached adulthood. "So much for all those potential sires, huh?"

Megatron didn't even have the decency to acknowledge him though. His optics fixed on the datafile grasped firmly between his servos. Starscream frowned, how much more did he need to read beyond 'positive'?

It started with a few twitches, then Megatron's mouth was curving into smirk, and before Starscream knew it all pretence vanished as a grin split Megatron's face. A smile that reached his optics, that somehow brightened his brooding visage, that made him look _completely ridiculous_.

"You _are_ mine," Megatron sounded awed as he finally tore his optics away from the file to look at Mission, seeing his sparkling as _his sparkling_ for the first time. His huge servo brushed the underside of Mission's chin, and to Starscream's surprise Mission didn't flinch away. "You're mine."

"Congratulations, it's a mech," Starscream muttered sarcastically, impatient. "There's no need to stare at him like that, you've known him for weeks."

Regret marred Megatron's expression. He dropped his servo away from Mission's face as he stood. "Inconsequential compared to the years _you_ kept him from me."

Starscream snorted, "If you're going to try and guilt me-"

"Of course, _that_ would be pointless!" Megatron exclaimed, and he tossed the datafile at him angrily. Starscream caught it easily. "You don't _have_ a conscious, do you? You treacherous little-!"

"Calling _my_ conscious into question now are we, oh Scourge of Kaon?" Starscream quipped, pleased that he hardly had to offer any insult to incense Megatron into losing his composure like this.

"At least I have a sense of loyalty!"

"Loyalty is just an excuse naive idiots like you use to justify misplaced trust," Starscream glanced at Mission as he spoke. It was a lesson he had reminded his sparkling of many times over, yet still hadn't sunk in. "See how far 'loyalty' has gotten you? You've gotten so soft in my absence a _sparkling_ had you fooled-"

"Enough!"

Megatron's optics were blazing like the red of a dying star, and between them Mission looked worried.

"You poisoned my son against me," Megatron rumbled, "You stole him. You _hid_ him. You've fed him _lies_ -!"

"I told him the truth!" And he had, only slightly embellished.

"A humane deactivation would be too kind," Megatron threatened coldly, seriously. Starscream's spark twisted at the horrified look on Mission's face. "Letting you decompose in a vat of acid for as long as you kept him from me sounds far more appropriate."

Starscream's lips quirked. Too creative a threat to have been improvised- but rather gruesome for Megatron's tastes, no matter how angry he was. Mission was not aware of that though.

"No!" And he stamped his tiny, unimposing pede. "I won't allow-"

"You are a sparkling!" Megatron thundered, "You are not entitled to any opinion on the matter!"

"He's my creator!"

Megatron cringed at the reminder, and gestured to Hook instead, "Take the traitor away."

Starscream groaned when, like magic- or perhaps it was a result of mass eavesdropping- Hook's insipidly useless assistants appeared to restrain him. Mission started shouting again as they roughly twisted his arms behind his back. Starscream heard more than a few choice words his sparkling certainly hadn't known _before_ fraternising with Decepticons.

The last thing he saw as he was dragged from the medical bay was the traumatised look on Mission's face as Megatron hauled him in the opposite direction.


	4. Chapter 4

Megatron scrolled down the endless datafile of drivel Soundwave had sent him, indignant. It was a text patronisingly titled 'Your Sparkling and You', written by some Iaconian "Professor" of Youngling Development some ten thousand years ago. What could some intellectual who'd probably never even had offspring of his own possibly teach Megatron about nurture and discipline?

He had an entire ship full of obedient soldiers under his command. One youngling was hardly going to be a challenge.

Still, he found himself perusing the chapter on 'Bedtime' with increasing desperation.

"Someone your age needs twelve to thirteen joors a cycle," Megatron announced, hoping the credentials of the file would help him win the one-sided argument.

Mission glared back from where he sat, dwarfed by the immense size of Megatron's berth.

"Recharge deprivation will stunt your growth," he tried again.

Unswayed and unmoving and looking fully prepared to murder him in the dead of the night, Mission continued to stare with an intensity most adults couldn't summon.

Megatron dropped the file to his desk and rubbed a servo across his optics, wondering how inappropriate it would be to com Hook again and have him drop by with a sedative. It certainly wasn't in the file, but then the useless text assumed that whatever sparkling was being raised didn't share genetic coding with _Starscream_.

Running out of options, he glanced again at the chapter. His expression sank into a scowl.

"I'm not telling you a story if that's what you're after."

Mission's expression matched his own.

"Don't insult me," he hissed, speaking for the first time in hours. "I'm not a sparkling."

Megatron didn't want to contradict him, but the file stated otherwise.

It would be in his best interests not to provoke though. He was fighting a losing battle. Yes, but at least he had actually managed to get his son in the berth, a feat which had seemed impossible when he had first hauled Mission in here, kicking, scratching, and biting.

Mission was certainly stubborn, but he had inherited that trait from his sire in the first place. And Megatron wasn't about to be outmatched by a sparkling.

It was now so late into the night that it was early, and in the weeks Mission had spent with them Skywarp had managed the impressive feat of adjusting his circadian rhythm to their time. Megatron watched his sparkling's narrowed optics flicker with tiredness, his helm nodding every few moments as he fought to stay alert.

It was only a matter of time.

Megatron settled back in his chair, lifting his long legs and propping them up on the edge of his desk. He folded his arms, watching Mission.

Mission stifled a yawn, optics resetting rapidly. Little wings dropped, and his scowl faltered with tiredness as he began to tip forwards, helm dropping lower and lower-

Megatron checked his chrono just as a little tap signalled Mission's helm hitting his leg. The sparkling was folded almost in half, the uncomfortable position proof of just how exhausted he was. His intakes evened and steady out; fast asleep.

 _Take that Soundwave_ , Megatron thought victoriously, silently fisting the air and getting to his pedes.

He was careful uncurling Mission out of that stupid position. Thankfully recharging sparklings didn't wake easily; even this one. He bent to rescue the insulation covers Mission had spitefully kicked off the berth and lifted them over his son's twitching frame, tucking them around to keep him warm. Seekers were prone to getting cold.

It was their wings, Megatron remembered, brushing a servo along the crimson edge of his sparkling's, the wide surface area lost a lot of precious heat.

An image of Starscream rose uninhibited in his processor. His mischievous grin as he stole the covers and cited the same excuse...

 _He was already carrying by then_ , Megatron realised with an emotion he couldn't quite place, the phantom sensation of Starscream pressed against him, helm tucked under his chin, refused to leave him.

Mission sighed in his recharge and rolled over. One wing twitched under the covers.

He found himself wondering what his son had looked like all those vorns ago. It was impossible to imagine he had been smaller, that his optics had been any bigger. That Starscream had traversed the galaxy via smugglers and criminals with a new-spark under wing.

They were safe _now_ , he thought, before realising he'd included the traitor in his thoughts.

He scowled to himself, in need of a stiff drink. Or two or three.

* * *

Mission woke warm and comfortable, but an underlying sense of dread had him forcing his frame online faster.

He flailed against something thick and heavy, tangling his limbs in it as he twisted. He reached the edge of something and caught himself just before he fell. Unfocused optics began to recognise the ceiling above him. He shuttered them, rebooting to rid them of any blurriness.

Memories of the night before flooded back as he sat up and quickly spotted the reason behind his impending sense of doom.

Megatron was in the armchair at the end of the berth. He was recharging, slumped, chin resting against his chest.

Mission wriggled out of the berth covers and leaned in for a closer look, just to be sure.

There was an empty cube loosely held in the older mech's right servo. He must have fallen asleep watching him. Ensuring he didn't abscond in the night. Not that he could leave without his creator.

Mission twisted the covers under his servos. They would have moved Starscream by now, hidden him away until Megatron settled on a cruel enough fate for him. He would need to know where to look before attempting any rescues. He could bide his time, play nice, lull Megatron into a sense of security-

There was a smash as the cube Megatron held slipped from his servo. The Decepticon sat up with a jolt, the cannon he hadn't been stupid enough to remove last night humming to life. Mission watched him knock over the chair as he stood, scanning the room for threats.

Drained looking optics finally settled on him, and the tension fell his broad shoulders. He was left looking tired and old, and Mission was struck, for the first time, at how much older Megatron was than his creator. How older he was than almost everyone he'd ever met.

"I'm hungry," He announced into the awkward silence. And he was, having not refuelled the previous evening amid his refusal to cooperate unless reunited with his creator. He had a plan now though, and neglecting his own frame wasn't going to help him succeed.

Megatron looked surprised at his change of attitude. Suspicious even. But far too soft to act on it. A cube was unsubspaced and held at arms length. Mission scooted down the berth and snatched it, privately delighting in the mech's irritated expression.

"You're welcome," Megatron growled, as if looking stern was going to have any affect on his manners.

Mission snorted into his energon, and in a rather petty show of revenge Megatron nudged the bottom of his cube, tilting it upward. Unprepared, Mission choked on the fuel that suddenly rushed into his intakes. What he didn't inhale spilt across his face and down his chest. Furious, he got ready to launch the cube at Megatron's smirking face.

"I'll need you to stay in here today," Megatron told him before he could, one servo raised. "If you can find it in yourself to _behave_ , I'll arrange for some entertainment."

"Entertainment?" He sneered, and threw the empty cube anyway. Megatron avoided it easily, looking as annoyed as he felt. "You think you can buy my cooperation with toys and colouring books?!"

"...Do you like toys and colouring books?" Megatron asked, apparently immune to both sarcasm and tantrums.

Mission actually _was_ partial to drawing, but Megatron certainly didn't need to know that. He folded his arms, mustering every stubborn byte in the frame. "...No."

"Suit yourself." Megatron shrugged, passing the berth. He reached for the door panel before changing his mind and levelling a finger with Mission. "Do not touch anything."

Mission huffed.

"That includes the desk," Megatron continued, "And there will be guards outside the door. You try to _leave_ ," his tone turned threatening, "You try _anything_ , and you'll never see the outside of this room again. You'll never see your _creator_ again-"

His spark leapt, "You can't-!"

"Do I make myself clear?" Megatron barked over him, still pointing. "Mission?!"

"...Yes," he muttered, clenching his fists at the fritz in his vocaliser. "I won't leave."

Glaring at the berth covers, he waited for Megatron to leave. The older mech seemed to hesitate though. Mission glanced up, catching a glimpse of regret in the Decepticon's optics before he looked away.

"I won't be long," Megatron told him gruffly, slapping the door panel. "Just... just stay put."

Mission lifted his helm in time to watch the door slide shut again, sealing him in his domestic prison. He threw himself back across the berth with a loud exhale of his intakes.

"Can this get any worse?" He asked the ceiling.

* * *

Dripping.

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.

How so small a thing as a drop of water could echo so loudly, so relentlessly. It rang through Starscream's processor, a staccato of sound, continuous dripping, intent on driving him mad.

He offlined his optics against the darkness, let his helm knock against the bulkhead, concentrating on his intakes, doing everything in his power to keep them even. A slow, calm, in and out. In and out. A contradiction to the rapid sound of droplets hitting the floor.

He had been shoved into small cells before. By Autobots and bounty hunters, and even by Megatron himself in the good old days. Claustrophobia, as crippling as it was to seekers, could be managed. He could manage. Beyond the walls of the old ship lay an endless abyss of stars and space. All the space in the universe.

He could only hope that Megatron hadn't-

That Mission-

He held his intake, chest aching, and released it slowly.

His sparkling could not cope as well as he did.

Mission had been all of one vorn old -optics too big for his face, legs too short to walk- when Starscream had wandered too close to Decepticon systems. Continued function aside, Bounty hunters cared little when it came to a mark's wellbeing. Or said mark's offspring.

They hadn't cared when they'd stuffed his tiny sparkling in a industrial crate, and they certainly hadn't cared for the muffled sobbing, tiny servos banging against the metal, Mission wordlessly calling for him.

It had taken a lot of promises and favours convincing his captors to let them go. But as unpleasant as that may have been, it was his traumatised sparkling's tear-streaked face that stayed with him. Mission wasn't anywhere near as brave as he liked to think he was.

Primus knows what Megatron had done with him.

The sound of old metal and un-oiled hinges drowned out the endless drips. Starscream onlined his optics as a stream of light opened up before him, widening until a familiar silhouette appeared. Starscream didn't get up.

"Rest well?" Megatron asked sarcastically, pointedly taking in the small cell.

Pretending to be comfortable on the cold, dirty floor, Starscream smirked. "Did you?" He shot back, taking note of the dark circles beneath Megatron's optics, the pronounced lines of age.

"Don't sass me." Megatron's gaze narrowed, "I have questions and it's about time you answered them. Truthfully."

Starscream tutted, rolling his helm towards the ceiling, "When have I _ever_ lied to you?"

Megatron advanced with a snarl. Starscream wedged himself against the bulkhead, sneering as Megatron loomed, invading what little space his wings already had.

"Are you trying to provoke me?" Megatron demanded.

His denta were clenched and bared, his intakes harsh enough to be felt on Starscream's armour. There was a matter of inches between their faces. Close enough to hit. Close enough to _bite_.

"Maybe if you wouldn't make it so easy!" He snapped forcibly, to stop himself from acting on that impulse. From what he could remember, Megatron _liked_ being bitten.

"You-!" Recognising that he was being baited, Megatron span away with an angry, snarling noise, and began pacing the tiny cell. "Did you know?!"

Starscream tried to focus on anything but the way the struts and armour across Megatron's broad, powerful back shifted as he walked. "You're going to have to be more speci-"

"When you _left_!" Megatron exclaimed, spitting the word with disgust. "Did you know you were sparked!? Did you know you were carrying my _son_?!"

Possessiveness sparked newfound frustration. Starscream pushed against the bulkhead to stand. "He's _my_ son!"

"Is that why you left?" Megatron's optics burned like a furnace, dim and intense. "To spite me?"

"What does it matter why I left?!"

Megatron had the nerve to look insulted, "I looked for you, you ungrateful-"

"Bounty hunters?!" Starscream could hear himself shrieking now, his voice bouncing off the tiny cell walls and hurting even his audials. "Mercenaries?! That was looking, was it?! You would have had us _killed_ -!"

"-How else was I-?!" Megatron fumbled to defend his actions.

"You branded me a traitor!" Starscream couldn't help the flood of resentment now that it'd started. "Had me hunted across the known galaxy! And what for?! You and your Primus-damned ego!"

"What was I supposed to think?" Megatron shouted back, but his tone had begun to lean away from fury now. "You disappeared."

"So you assumed the worst." Starscream crossed his arms, feeling rather defensive.

"Don't start playing the victim, you little brat." Megatron's scowl was back, "It was hardly out of character."

Starscream fumed. So maybe it wasn't out of character. That didn't mean Megatron was pardoned from this -from jumping to the worst conclusion possible and slapping a million credit bounty on his carrying Air Commander's helm.

A little voice reminded him that Megatron didn't _know_ he was carrying at the time. Starscream squashed it abruptly. That was no excuse.

"You should have stayed." Megatron's stern but quite voice interrupted his fuming.

He looked up, barely finding the confidence to meet his former commander's optics.

"You should have _stayed_ ," he repeated, louder.

Starscream shook his helm, the burn to his optics felt watery. He could have done without hearing that. Could have done without the sudden manifestation of the hundreds of 'what if' scenarios he'd tormented himself with all these years. Could really _really_ have done without the memory of Megatron's low, warm rumble in his audials, the gentle weight of powerful, battle worn servos across his back, the beat of a steady, strong spark beneath his cheek.

He snapped himself out of it.

"It would have been a disaster."

" _This_ is a disaster!" Megatron bellowed, gesturing to their argument. "What could _possibly_ have possessed you to have done something so idiotic? Honestly! _Running away_. You weren't some stupid adolescent that'd had too much to drink. You're my Air Commander!"

' _Was' his Air Commander_ , Starscream begrudgingly reminded himself. "I didn't have any other choice."

"That's nonsense," Megatron scoffed, "If you'd had an ounce of common sense, you would have told me."

"What the frag was I supposed to do?!" He hissed sarcastically, "Wake you up in the middle of the night with balloons?! ' _Congratulations! You're a Sire_!' Because that would have gone down _swimmingly_ , wouldn't it?! How was I to know you wouldn't just rip him straight from my spark?!"

"That's not what you were afraid of," Megatron's expression was dark and hateful, but _knowing_. Long legs crossed the room with one purposeful step. "Was it?"

Nervous energy built at their proximity, gathering in a knot at the base of Starscream's tank. "I don't know what-"

"Yes, you do," Megatron breathed, quiet now. "You knew how I felt."

Drip.

Drop.

He could hear it again. That infernal dripping. Eerily prolonged this time. Like the world was slowing down. A loud echoing pang in a silent room. Not even Megatron's enormous frame could block it out. Even as he leant closer, hoovering, the blunt edge of his strong nose only just brushing his own.

Starscream lifted his chin, receptive, lips parting just enough for Megatron to know he wanted it.

"...Please don't-"

Their breath mingled, and the rest of whatever plea he might have spoken was lost against Megatron's lips. He braced himself for something rough; wings lowered and held taunt, expecting to be thrown against a wall, pinned to the floor, crushed under the weight of Megatron's pent up frustrations. It never came.

Strong arms closed the distance between their frames with a gentle little tug, and Starscream felt them wind around him, his waist and back. Large servos splayed flat across his wings, savouring the smooth metal, fingers curling to grope.

Starscream hummed, pressing himself flush against the taller mech, tilting his helm encouragingly. But Megatron's needy kisses slowed as the moment finally seemed to catch up with him. He began to draw away.

Chest tight and spark spinning backwards, Starscream took Megatron's stubborn face between his servos and yanked him back down again, locking his arms around his thick neck to keep him there. He hadn't even noticed that Megatron had dropped to his knees until he was being pulled into a broad lap, harsh demanding kisses tapering off into something soft and lingering.

He turned his helm out of the kiss, letting their cheeks rest together so neither one of them would have to look at the other. Megatron remained silent, but the arms clutching Starscream tightened. The sentiment was clear.

 _I missed you._

Starscream let his helm drop against Megatron shoulder, listening.

The dripping had stopped.

* * *

' _Don't touch anything_ ,' Megatron had patronisingly demanded in that gruff authoritative tone of his. _Don't do this. Don't do that. Do as I say._ Was this a glimpse he was getting into what kind of a life he'd suffer in his 'sire's' care?

Mission couldn't think of anything worse. His creator had only ever had one rule. "Don't get caught."

Which was why there was absolutely nothing wrong with him disobeying Megatron by going through his desk. So long as he wasn't caught.

There was a lot of junk. Old datafiles and dusty image projection cubes, even a couple high grades hidden under one of the drawers false bottoms. And... Mission wrinkled his nose. Energon treat wrappers?

He was disappointed to find that none of the datafiles were encrypted. So much for finding high priority intel. One caught his optic though. Not as dusty than the rest, and sat apart. Less a forgotten piece of paperwork and more like something kept close, but hidden. was printed along its side.

Mission slotted it into a datapad and wasn't at all surprised when the screen blinked to life with an image of his creator.

He was far younger than Mission had ever known him to be, and he could see himself in his creator's youthful smirk. None of the information was particularly life-changing. It was boring stuff really. Age. Rank. Credentials. Very long medical and disciplinary records.

Mission's tank began to twist. Why would Megatron bother keeping this?

He dropped it back into the drawer. As he went to slam it shut again, something rolled out from the back. A small cylinder, a dull greenish colour. Mission recognised it immediately. A fusion cell, used for powering weapons.

He lifted it out, weighing it in his servo. This one was expired, no use in any weapon, not that he had one at hand. But Mission remembered finding a crate full of expired cells before, aboard the old freighter he and his creator once lived in. Assuming they were harmless, he'd played with them. Even set one alight.

At the time -scorched and in shock, audials ringing even louder than Starscream was screaming- he'd promised his creator he'd never do something so stupid again.

He tossed the fusion cell in the air and caught it, smirking.

 _Just don't get caught_ , he heard his creator's voice.

Some promises were made to be broken.

* * *

Megatron's com link beeped. Starscream turned his helm off his shoulder, looking curious. He dismissed the call, only for another to appear.

And then another. And another.

He repressed the desire to curse, knowing exactly what this was going to be about. He should have asked Hook for those sedatives.

"What has he done?" He grunted.

The com crackled with interference, cutting out in pauses, ".. _.Mh-n ...off an..."_

"What?!" He repeated louder, irritated.

" _It's Mission_!" Thundercracker's voice bellowed, clearer now. He sounded out of breath, like he was running. " _He set off an explosion, he's out_!"

Drapped comfortably across his lap, Starscream huffed quietly in amusement, making no effort to hide his proud smirk. With a derisive sneer Megatron unceremoniously shoved the seeker off to stand. Starscream hit the floor with a crash and muffled curse.

"Is anyone injured?"

" _Superficially_ ," Thundercracker panted, " _A distraction_ -"

"He's looking for his creator," Megatron answered, casting a glance at the glaring seeker in question. "I'm with Starscream now. I'll deal with the sparkling when he gets here-"

" _No_!" Thundercracker interrupted, harshly, like there was some point that wasn't getting across. " _He's not- sir! He's heading for the hanger_! "

Megatron saw his own expression mirrored back at him as he watched the smirk fall from Starscream's face, replaced with what could only be described as dread. His spark seemed to shrink in on itself as he realised what Mission was doing.

"Seal the hanger!" He ordered, already palming the door lock and shoving the door open the rest of the way. "Close off the airlocks and the main security corridors-!"

He was knocked to the side as Starscream ran past him, igniting his thrusters and blasting down the corridor at full speed in the direction off the hanger. Megatron snarled, disconnecting the call and following. Flight-mode in a confined space wasn't as practical for someone of his size and agility. Starscream could make the tight turns without even having to consider slowing down. Megatron scraped the paint from his wings just attempting to keep the seeker's tail in sight.

By the time they reached the hanger the bay doors were half closed, stopped before they could seal. Starscream soared towards the open gap, and for a moment Megatron's spark stopped. If the seeker reached open space, nothing would be able to catch him.

At the last minute Starscream flipped back into bipedal mode, thrusters skidding across the hanger's polished floor. Megatron slammed on his own breaks, stumbling as he transformed at the accelerated speed.

"Which way did he go?!" Starscream was screaming. "Which way?!"

"Thundercracker followed him," Sunstorm said by the hanger controls. He was talking to Megatron, rather than Starscream, who instead received a look of contempt from the golden seeker. "He won't catch him," he said pessimistically. "That explosion the little monster set off damaged his wings-"

"Then I'll get him myself!" Starscream hissed, advancing towards the door.

Sunstorm moved to intercept his former Air -Commander, but Starscream looked ready to tear through anything that kept him from his sparkling. Megatron grabbed him around the waist and pulled him back.

"You're not going any-"

The seeker twisted in his arms and punched him across the face. Megatron's helm snapped to the side but his grip didn't lessen.

"This is your fault!" Starscream yelled, taking another swing at him. "If you hadn't scared him! Separated us-!"

Megatron struggled to get hold of his wrists as Starscream started clawing at him, "Stop fighting me!"

"I have to go after him!"

"Starscream, stop!"

The sound of returning thrusters finally distracted them. Starscream's helm whipped towards to the open bay. Something in Megatron's chest tightened at the expression the seeker wore. He relinquished his grip, letting Starscream's wrists slip from his servos.

Thundercracker landed clumsily, leaving a trail of wispy smoke from the hole in his right wing behind him. He was empty handed.

Starscream's wings were flicking, like the seeker couldn't decide to be angry or upset or Primus knew what. His fists were clenched against his thighs, shaking.

"Starscream," Megatron sighed, pushing aside his own feelings, "We'll get him back-"

"Will we?!" Starscream glared over his shoulder, "Before or after he _starves to death_ out there?!"

"Don't be ridiculous." He tried not to sound as irritated as he felt, adopting as pacifying a voice as he could manage, "He's not going to-"

"Don't tell me what is and isn't going to happen!" Starscream stamped closer and pointed, "He's a _sparkling_. He's _my_ sparkling, and now, thanks to you, he's lost! Thousands of light years away from anything!"

"Exactly," Megatron didn't shrink away from his aggression, "He has no where else to go. He'll come back."

"What part of _lost_ don't you understand, idiot?"

Megatron stared past him, past the hanger door reassuming it's slow creep towards the floor, and at the few stars still in sight. He wondered which Mission had picked.

"Thundercracker," he called the seeker limping towards the exit. "Where was he heading?"


	5. Chapter 5

Navigation was tricky in the depths of unoccupied space. Without the _Nemesis_ to act as a point of reference Mission had no idea which way was even up, let alone if he was moving in the right direction.

He span on the spot, flailing slightly to keep himself from flipping upside-down without his thrusters to stabilise him. Panting in excursion, he scanned the endless expanse for his pursuer, audials straining for the sound of an adult seeker's thrusters.

He hadn't realised Thundercracker could fly so fast with just one wing.

When Megatron had mentioned 'guards' he'd expected to find some expendable grunts, Combaticons maybe. After igniting the fusion cell and launching it out the door only to see _Thundercracker_ standing there...

As unfortunate as that was, hesitation would have cost his freedom. Thundercracker had been agile enough to avoid getting himself blown up at least, and as Skywarp had once been keen to over-share, he'd had worse.

As the thrill of his escape started to pass, the size of the journey ahead began to feel much more daunting. His shoulders slumped under the weight of it, and the distant stars twinkled teasingly. He had absolutely no idea where to go.

"Great," he huffed to himself, riffling through his subspace, stuffed with a stolen array of supplies and equipment and just about everything from Megatron's quarters that hadn't been nailed down. He pulled out one of the star maps, flicking through the sectors until he located the last he'd known the _Nemesis_ to have passed through. He held the projection up against the stars until he found a constellation that matched.

"So much for your masters degree in astronavigation," Mission muttered to his absent creator when the star map flashed to confirm a match. Thirty degrees right of his current position lay Pandora VI, a system he was familiar with. He set the coordinates and tucked the map away, wondering how Starscream had always managed to get them so lost when it was so easy.

He had four cubes of energon, a couple of rust sticks, a soldering iron he'd stolen from the med bay, and two disarmed thermite grenades he planned on weaponising as soon as he had the time. Most valuable of all though, were the credit chips he'd stolen from Megatron, loaded with more currency than he was sure he'd ever seen in his life.

Starscream didn't have _friends_ , but there was never a shortage of guns for hire in this galaxy.

* * *

The war room had never been so full before. Megatron was reminded of the speeches he used to give on Cybertron, when his followers still actually listened and participated and wanted to be there. Every seat around the table was occupied, the walls lined with mechs, he had to stand on the elevated platform just to be able to see them all.

"It's funny how suddenly no one has anything to do," he told them angrily, gaze snapping to Skywarp, who was perhaps the worst offender when it came to making up excuses not to go to meetings, and had unwisely chosen a front row seat. The purple seeker quickly teleported to the back of the room.

"We have an escapee," He turned his glare away from Skywarp to start. "Whom I'm sure many of you are familiar with. He escaped through the hanger less than two joors ago and his whereabouts are currently unknown. The priority is to bring him back unharmed before he gets himself killed."

"And I stress _unharmed_ ," he growled, and braced himself for a reaction. "As he is my son."

This admission was meet with the surprise of absolutely no one. He stared. Someone coughed awkwardly.

White hot fury burned in his spark, his fusion cannon began to power on subconsciously. The Decepticons sat upfront began to scoot their chairs back hurriedly.

Megatron's denta were going to crack they were clenched so hard, "You _knew?!"_

The room erupted with a panicked chorus of excuses; some of the seekers ducked beneath the table, Astrotrain began using his chair as an impromptu shield, Swindle was yelling loudly about a betting pool, and the Constructicons were fighting with the door release as they attempted to escape.

And every second this idiocy carried on his sparkling was getting further and further out of his reach.

"Enough!" He bellowed, servo cutting through the nonsense. "I don't care who-!" he cut himself off with an angry noise because actually he did care. He just didn't have enough room in the brig to fit them all. "I want every flight capable out with scanners, looking for a trace on his flight path. Find anything, follow it and send the coordinates back. Skywarp?"

The seeker in question poked his head out from under the table, "Yeah?"

"Take the lead until Thundercracker is out of medical," Megatron glared, "If anything happens to that sparkling I'm holding you directly responsible."

Skywarp nodded hurriedly, sinking below the table edge until only the top of his helm was visible.

"The rest of you are dismissed." He stepped down off the podium, nodding at Soundwave as he appeared in the doorway.

Neither of them spoke until they were well away from the war room, "He hiding anything?"

Soundwave shook his helm, "Starscream is cooperative. Distress; genuine."

Megatron breathed deeply. It wasn't much of a relief, knowing that Mission was acting on his own.

They rounded a corner to find Starscream waiting for them, leaning up against the bulkhead, arms folded over his chest. The seeker's presence on the ship hadn't been widely broadcasted yet, but Megatron was giving it till the end of the cycle before the rumour mill did it's job.

"What have you done to Shockwave?" He asked, scanning the corridor for any sign of Starscream's minder.

"In some vent somewhere," Starscream waved a dismissive servo, "Have you found him yet?"

"Negative," Soundwave intoned bluntly, "Search in progress."

"Wonderful," The seeker glanced between him and Soundwave, looking hesitant. "...He- I don't know where he might have gone."

Megatron resisted the urge to place a servo on Starscream's shoulder. Despite what had happened earlier, he had no idea where he stood with the seeker. He had always found Starscream difficult to read. At the very least he no longer felt like throttling him-

"This is still your fault," Starscream muttered.

-throttling him _most_ of the time.

"Starscream-"

"If you'd just let us leave-!"

"-You _know_ why I-"

"-because you're so obsessed with me-!"

"I am not-!" Megatron stopped, casting a look back at Soundwave. This wasn't an argument he wanted anyone to overhear. "Go." He snapped.

"Acknowledged," Soundwave inclined his helm. "I will keep you updated on the progress."

Megatron waited until the corridor was empty again before leaning closer to Starscream, his frustration with the current situation adding to his malice when he said, "I have half a processor to lock you away right this moment and never bother telling you if I find him or not."

Starscream saw right through him.

"Will you now?" He smirked nastily, "And how will you leer at my wings all day if I'm locked in a cell, you rusty old creep?"

Megatron snapped his optics away from the seeker's wings and very determinately focused on his face instead. "You're not as attractive as you think."

"You sure about that?" Starscream arched a brow and flicked his left wing. Megatron's optic twitched under the effort it took not to glance at it.

"Halt traitor!" Shockwave's voice carried down the corridor.

Megatron leant away from Starscream -somewhat concerned at how close they'd gotten without him even realising- and looked up to see his rather dishevelled sub-commander making his wobbly way towards them.

Smirking, Starscream stepped forward with his arms raised in defeat. "You caught me. I surrender."

Shockwave looked nothing short of relieved. When he was close enough for Megatron to inspect, he noticed at that his purple armour was marred by oil and scratches. He cast a sideways glance at the seeker, wondering what on Cybertron he'd done to him.

"Leave him," he stopped Shockwave when the mech went to cuff Starscream.

"But my lord, the traitor-"

"You could barely keep track of the sparkling." Megatron snapped, "How can you expect me to trust you with his creator?"

Starscream was looking infinitely proud, something that only seemed to stress his sub-commander more. Out of the corner of his optic he could see the seeker making lewd gestures behind his back, trying to imply to Shockwave that he was going to be far from any cells that evening.

Seeker should be careful what he wished for.

* * *

Starscream soon found himself centre stage to a sea of colourful wings and scowling faces.

"I'm sure you have a lot of catch up on," Megatron sounded horrendously cheerful, giving him an encouraging nudge into the barracks. "Enjoy yourself."

The automatic door shut with a resounding bang, like Megatron had somehow slammed it, locking him in with an entire Air Force of seekers out for his energon.

"Well, well, well," Acidstorm pushed himself to the front, "Look who decided to once again grace us with his presence."

Starscream's spark twisted as old memories resurfaced. He was used to this treatment, the sarcasm and ridicule he received from these boltless idiots was all part of his daily life. Except now, he didn't have a rank to protect him. He didn't even have his trine to protect him. Thundercracker was still in the medbay and Skywarp was probably with him. That or avoiding him.

"-missed you, Screamer."

"Yeah, where ya been, traitor?"

"-got any more secret sparklings-?"

"-hoped you were rusting in some cold-"

"-lucky Megatron's still hard for you, slut-"

That last one had been Acidstorm again. The word sent the energon in Starscream's fuel lines ice cold. The thought of the seeker's face crumpling under his fist was very appealing. So appealing, apparently, that someone else decided to do it for him.

A purple fist came out of nowhere and planted itself right in the centre of Acidstorm's sneering face. The seeker stumbled backwards, knocking into the other members of the hate mob clumsily.

"You wanna back off, Aft-storm?!"

Skywarp's voice had never sounded so beautiful.

A heavy arm casually landed across his shoulders and tugged him in. Under normal circumstances Starscream would have pushed him off, but it seemed, in his long absence, that Skywarp had garnered influence, possibly even respect, amongst the other seekers. They began to back off, so Starscream let the contact go unpunished.

"TC's still in the medbay," Skywarp told him, sounding so... indifferent. Like this wasn't the first time they'd been together in nearly ten vorns, like nothing had changed in all that time, like they could just pick up where they left off. They couldn't.

"He's upset, ya know, about losing Mission."

Skywarp led him towards the end of the barracks, where there was some semblance of privacy. "We'll get him back though." Skywarp carried on as if nothing was wrong, perhaps he wanted to drag this out. "I mean, his wings are so small he can't really get-"

Starscream shrugged his arm off. He didn't want to talk about Mission being out there, or how small he was. It was tightening something unpleasant in his chest. He'd rather Skywarp just break his nose and get it over with.

"If you're going to hit me, do it." He snapped.

Skywarp had the nerve to look surprised, "You _want_ me to hit you?"

"You're angry."

"I'm-?!" Skywarp looked towards the ceiling like he appealing for divine intervention, "Primus, Screamer. Of course I'm fragging angry, you selfish piece of scrap. You left. TC and I thought you were _dead_."

"Then _hit me_ ," Starscream moved closer, "Just-"

"I'm not going to give you the satisfaction, frag-face," Skywarp shoved him away again. "Me hitting you isn't going to make us even. It's not gonna fix what you did-"

"I'm not-" It was frightening actually. Really frightening. How not-stupid Skywarp actually was. "I'm not trying-"

"You're a liar," Skywarp told him, pouting slightly. "And I'm not hitting you and neither is TC when he gets back. We already had this conversation."

"What conversation!?"

"About not letting you walk all over us all the time. Now that you're back-"

Now it was Starscream's turn to laugh, "I'm not staying-"

"That's what you think," Skywarp interrupted, uncharacteristically conceited. Like he knew something important. That look never boded well.

He was about to tell his once trine mate where he could shove this stupid hypothetical future where they all lived together in domestic bliss, when Skywarp's helm tilted to the side, looking past him, lips quirking into a smile.

Starscream turned, and scowled.

"Thundercracker," he greeted coldly.

The blue seeker had certainly seen better days, sporting an impressive exhibition of fresh scars and welding, most undoubtably earned during his many endeavours acting as his reckless sparkmate's personal living shield. The newest weld still glowed a dull orange, extending diagonally across his damaged wing, grey where it had been scrapped of paint.

"Starscream," Thundercracker rumbled back. He gaze flickered to Skywarp's. "I wasn't told you'd be joining us."

"Megatron dropped him by," Skywarp beamed, "Guess that means we're on guard duty again."

'Guard duty'? Skywarp? Starscream rolled his optics, "If you think for one second two dolts like you are going to keep me from leaving if I really wanted two-"

"Good job you don't want to then," Thundercracker shrugged, walking past him to sit on a berth. "But by all means, if you change your mind..." He pointed towards the door.

"So you _want_ me to leave now?"

Thundercracker sighed heavily, exasperated with him already, "Do what you want, Starscream," he reclined on the berth and turned away, "You always do."

* * *

Pandora VI was a wreckage of a planet. Struck by a meteorite some ten thousands vorns before Mission had even been sparked, it had been knocked from orbit, it's crumbling half-crescent remains sent careening into deep space. What had once been most of it's northern hemisphere was now a ring of mismatched satellites.

Mission circumnavigated the larger moons, recalling the 'safer' flight path his creator used to take on their previous visits together. Though Pandora VI was in unregistered space, unclaimed by any systems and thus outside any galactic authority's jurisdiction, it was wise for someone with Starscream's reputation to stay off radar. And Mission wasn't going to run the risk of being recognised by anyone that might have seen them together. Not now that he didn't have his creator to talk them out of delicate situations.

He headed towards the cratered centre of the planet, there the largest city had been built using the molten metals pumped up from the planet's core. No one actually lived here, Starscream had once told him, only ever passed through, like the capital of every sordid spaceport in this part of the galaxy. It's bars and cantinas housed a colourful array of criminals; everything from smugglers and pirates, to fraudsters and gangsters.

One such establishment, _Deena Soar_ , was renowned for catering to such cliental.

Despite the huge neon signs above the building, the entrance was shrouded, guarded by a threatening looking mech carrying what appeared to be twin blades mounted on his back.

Mission lifted his helm high and moved towards him.

"I-"

The mech took one look at his wings and stepped aside before he could even begin his practiced spiel. The doors whooshed open to admit him, bombarding him with abrasive noise and unsavoury smells.

He glared at the guard.

"Wings," the mech pointed out gruffly, "Free admission."

Mission was beginning to realise why his cheap creator always came here.

The doors sealed behind him as he passed the threshold, waving a servo through the dark, smokey atmosphere. He was by far the shortest inhabitant and had a job avoiding getting stepped on. He moved quickly towards the bar, pulling himself up into one of the reinforced stools.

He didn't have to do much to draw attention to himself. One of the barmechs disappeared behind back door only to reappear moments later with a broad shouldered femme, taller than Mission had even remembered her being.

"Deena," he greeted the shuttle, straining his neck so he could see over the top of the bar.

"Kid," she said, frowning. Her huge wings fanned out, involuntarily defensive, "Look, I told your creator, it's ain't safe-"

"I'm here alone," Mission said over the music, shrugging off the 'kid' comment. Given Deena's temper, it wasn't worth correcting her. "I'm looking for Lockdown. I have credits-"

Deena waved him down, leaning across the bar and lowering her voice. "I ain't bothering Lockdown for what you fished outta your allowance. Doesn't get outta berth for less than..."

Mission quietly pushed a credit chip across the bar. Deena glanced down.

Her expression hardened.

"Fine." She grunted, and Mission pulled it back, swiftly subspacing it. "Upstairs. Second door on the right."

It was quieter upstairs. The music a low thrum coming up through the flooring. Small, sleek looking femmes loitered outside some of the rooms. They ignored him as he passed.

The second door on the right had been left open. Mission could hear Lockdown's distinctively filthy laugh floating through it, accompanied by what sounded like pained groans. Frowning, Mission poked his helm around the door way.

Four mechs surrounded a table piled high with an assortment of credits, weapons, and high grade. Lockdown was balanced on the rear legs of his own chair, his pedes resting atop the table. Most of the riches had been pushed towards him.

Red optics snapped towards him, and Lockdown's trademark slag-eating grin twisted to life across his face. "Squirt!" He exclaimed, letting his chair slam back into the floor.

"Lockdown." Mission stepped into the room, mustering his confidence. "I have a job for you."

Lockdown's 'friends' snorted in amusement, murmuring amongst themselves. Mission was certain he caught he word 'sparkling'. His wing's twitched as they extended out.

"A'right, shut up," Lockdown threw an empty cube at one of them, leaning forward in his chair. He gestured him closer. "Heard about ole' Screamer. Them 'Bots eh? Tough break."

"My cre-"

The other mechs leant around the table to peer at him, they looked curious. Mission cleared his vocaliser. "- _Starscream_ is no longer in Autobot custody. He broke himself out."

"Well that's great," Lockdown clapped his servos together, "You tell him not to forget about that favour he owes me, won't ya."

The bounty hunter half turned back to his winnings, digits flicking over some of the credit chips casually. He lifted his high grade to his mouth.

"I can't. He's been taken," Mission folded his arms. "Which is why I need you to break into the _Nemesis_ and recover him for me."

High grade sprayed across the room as Lockdown expelled it from his intakes. The shock of hearing the words 'break into the _Nemesis_ ' altogether in one sentence. He punched himself in the chest, gasping, "You- you gotta be kiddin'-"

"I'm not," Mission unsubspaced his credits and held them out. "I can pay double on completion."

"No way," Lockdown was shaking his helm, still coughing. He didn't even look at the credits, "No way, kid. Am I gonna-"

"What are you talking about, 'no way'?!" Mission's temper flared, "I have the credits-"

"Kid. Kid listen," Lockdown stood and came to kneel in front of him, expression sympathetic, though disbelieving. "All the credits in the Primus-damned universe ain't gonna be enough to convince _anyone_ to go up against your ole man."

"You're afraid?" Mission couldn't believe what he was hearing, "Of _Megatron_?! You're a coward-!"

"Cowards live," Lockdown pointed out, roughly slapping him on the shoulder. "See, I _know_ Megs. We go back. He's one mean fragger. You cross him, you best make sure ya gotcha affairs in order, kid."

Mission gave him a look of disbelief.

"Yeah well, you don't have t' worry," Lockdown smirked, "He has prob'ly... two soft spots, maybe. And you have the distinct advantage a' being both a' them- Seeker _and_ family. Now me, on the other servo..."

Mission shrugged him off angrily, "You didn't turn my creator in to Megatron before. You knew about the bounty on him, you knew about _me_. I thought you were- friends!?"

"Yeah," Lockdown snorted, and shared a look with the mechs listening in on their conversation. "With benefits, maybe." He muttered. "Your creator and I, we had an _arrangement_ , see..."

"Then make an arrangement with me," Mission cried impatiently, vocaliser catching. "I thought you liked a challenge."

Lockdown held out his servo, looking apologetic, but not like he was going to be losing recharge. "Sorry squirt, but there's a pretty big difference between liking a challenge and bein' plain suicidal."

"Don't you have any sense of- of decency!?" Mission stumbled over his words, "Of loyalty?!"

"Loyalty's for sparklings and Autobots," Lockdown stood to tower over him, deadly hook inches from his face. "Your creator was a pretty face on lonely nights, nothin' more."

"You're a jerk," Mission spat, utilising language he'd learnt from Skywarp

"Yeah? Maybe I am," Lockdown folded his arms, "You get along with your old man, squirt?"

"Of course not," Mission frowned at the question, "...Why?"

"Jus' wandering how ya mighta squirmed outta his servos is all," the hunter lifted a shoulder in a lazy shrug, "Betcha he's willing to pay a fair few credits t' get yaack."

Mission was suddenly aware of how unarmed he was. His grenades wouldn't go off but he could still throw them- hard enough and they might dent Lockdown's thick, empty helm. "I _offered_ you credits," he reminded the hunter, stepping towards the open doorway.

Lockdown was tapping his chin, thinking, "Ship could use a couple upgrades. New lick 'a paint maybe..."

He was smirking, bluffing maybe -he had a reputation for it after all.

"I'm _not_ going back to Megatron!"

Behind them some of the other mechs had stood. Mission wasn't sure if they were in any way affiliated with Lockdown or rival hunters, or if it even mattered. Four-on-one weren't odds in his favour.

Following his gaze, Lockdown glanced back at them, his amusement suddenly vanishing. His hook swept back and nudged Mission, pushing him towards the exit.

"Now, fellas..." He began, and Mission was close enough to hear his armoury of illegally modified weaponry online, "don't cha think this one's a little above ya pay grade?"

They didn't.

A chorus of quiet clicks and snaps sounded before Lockdown's free servo wrapped around a wing and flung him from the room. Mission hit the deck as high powered blasters exploded through the bar's cheap durasteel walls. Hot metal rained down from above as he scrambled down the corridor, stinging his wings.

The firefight came to an abrupt end when a dark green blur flew through the doorway and embedded itself in the wall. Lockdown.

Mission rolled to his pedes and used his thrusters to blast around the corner as the remaining bounty hunters came thundering out into the corridor, stumbling over each other in their hast to catch him.

Stupid, _stupid_ \- this was Lockdown's fault. Lockdown and his stupid, loud, fat _mouth-_

The atmosphere downstairs hadn't changed. Either the music was too loud or the patrons were too used to the sounds of blaster fire to care. Mission was willing to bet it was a mix of both as he ducked between a tall mech's legs.

He heard the whistle of the thrown grenade before he saw it land with a thunk before him. His surprise ignited his thrusters almost involuntarily and he used his momentum to throw himself behind a table just seconds before it went off.

The bar erupted in chaos as weapons of every kind were unleashed, it's overcharged masses setting them off without aim or consequence. Mission stayed low, tucked into a ball, spark drumming fast and hard in its chamber.

That grenade could have taken his wings off. Could have _offlined him._ What did those hunters expect to be paid handing over his deactivated frame?

 _Amateurs,_ Mission thought, creeping out from his table to slip under another. Well, hopefully amateurs. Either that, or they weren't looking to take him alive.

His tank rolled unpleasantly. To think he'd been worried about Lockdown taking him back to his sire...


	6. Chapter 6

Thundercracker lifted his helm, onlining one optic in the darkness. Starscream's dark silhouette sat on the berth parallel.

"Surprised I haven't left yet?" His scratchy voice asked.

"Maybe," Thundercracker sat up, carefully dislodging Skywarp's arm as he climbed off the berth. "Wouldn't be the first time."

He watched Starscream's wings droop, heard him spitefully hiss, "I don't owe you an explanation."

He did. He owed a lot of explanations, he owed a lot of apologies too. Apologies no one was ever going to hear probably. Thundercracker swallowed those feelings though. Someone was going to have to be the bigger person, and it certainly wasn't going to be Starscream.

"I don't need an explanation," he sighed, throwing his legs over the berth to sit next to Starscream. "I know why."

Starscream stiffened next to him, "You don't know anything."

"I think I know enough. Things just make a lot more sense now that you're back."

His trine leader didn't have any response to that, remaining resolutely cold and quiet, gaze fixated on the far wall, like if he just ignored Thundercracker he could go back to stewing in his own misery the rest of the night. He probably deserved to suffer, especially after all the worrying he'd put him and Skywarp through.

But unlike Starscream, Thundercracker understood empathy.

"He's smart," he threw out casually, "Your son. Very handsome."

Starscream's pride ballooned to life, chest puffing out and nose lifting into the air, "Of course he is. He takes after me."

"Skywarp thought he looked more like Megatron," Thundercracker couldn't resist teasing. "His jaw, and nose-"

"Skywarp's an idiot," Starscream snapped, annoyed. "If he looks so much like him, then why didn't that oversized trash compactor notice?! Stupid, oblivious, moronic-"

Thundercracker had wondered on the same thing too. How Megatron could have missed the seemingly obvious. Maybe it was a matter of perception. Megatron had taken one look at those optics, that face, the mean little smirk, and seen only Starscream. Because all he'd been thinking of was Starscream.

"I don't know," Thundercracker answered instead, because his trine leader wouldn't believe him anyway. "Mission'll come back though. He wouldn't leave you, he's too loyal."

To anyone else it would have been a compliment. Starscream dropped his helm into his servos with a disgusted noise.

"I know," he muttered, "Gets that from his sire..."

* * *

It's wasn't like Pandora VI had any sort of security force, but Mission still couldn't help hoping someone on this Primus-forsaken planet might have thought to step in. Three grown mechs ruthlessly chasing a sparkling out into the streets can't have been an acceptable scene, even in this dark corner of the universe.

The gears in his thighs ached, overworked, causing him to trip as he ran. His left wing throbbed at every tiny movement and dangled unresponsive, like he might have landed on it funny after diving under that table. He didn't want to risk taking to the air yet, not with a broken wing, not out in the open, not until he was _sure_ they wouldn't be able to just shoot him down again.

He'd had nightmares of falling like that.

"Hey, we ain't gonna hurt ya!"

"-thought you wanted a bounty hunter, Con?!"

He could hear them yelling behind him. Laughing. Blasters went off every few seconds, scorching the ground by his pedes or flying just over his helm. Mission ground his denta together. They were toying with him.

He looked over his shoulder, stumbling slightly, and saw them jogging, taking their time. Their grins shone bright, reflecting street's neon lights. There was no sign of Lockdown.

"Quit screwing 'round," one of them shouted, "Grab 'im."

Mission pushed harder, thrusters giving him the boast to leap forwards. He listed to the left, his damaged wing destroying any sense of balance. He hit the ground hard as he came back down.

A fist locked itself around his scruff bar, but his captor didn't lift and dangle him like Megatron always did, choosing instead to drag him across the ground, scrapping the paint from his knees and pedes.

He was an industrial mech, whoever he was. Covered in thick, sealed armour. No seams or exposed wires to jab at or pull. Mission twisted and landed a kick on his broad thigh. It hardly left a dent.

"Happy?" The industrial mech said, shaking him a little as he held him up for the others. "Fragger's definitely Decepticon-"

"I am _not_ a Decepticon!" Mission snapped, pulling at the digits wrapped around his scruff, "I'm neutral, idiot. I don't _have_ an allegiance."

"You're a Con!" Another one shouted back, tall and narrow looking, like he'd lost half his parts. "Just cuz you ain't wear that ugly insignia-"

"'Sides, you're Megatron's brat," the mech holding him interrupted, "Think we're stupid?"

It was in Mission's best interests not to answer that question.

"Yes!" He did anyway.

The industrial mech reached out and pulled on his left wing, twisting at one of his ailerons. Mission grimaced, optics watering with the effort it took not to cry out.

"Stop!" He yelled, thrusters kicking, "You think Megatron will be grateful after seeing what you've done to me?!"

They laughed, even nudged each other playfully.

"'After seeing what we done to ya?'," the tall one repeated sarcastically, "You'd be lucky if ya ever saw that old scrap pile again. 'Bots'll pay good credits for a prize like you."

"Autobots?" Mission wriggled, confusion setting in. "The Autobots don't want me. I'm not- they don't _pay_ mechs like _you_ for their enemy's kidnapped _offspring_."

"I think you mean, _Optimus Prime_ doesn't pay for lost little demons like you," a broad shouldered mech who hadn't spoken yet stepped forward. His accent sharper, clipped: it reminded Mission of Shockwave. He seemed to stand taller than the other two, and his tone held authority. He leant in close. "Not all Autobots are saints."

"That doesn't change-" Mission breathed through the sharp hot pain of his wing. "Your logic is flawed. I'm not worth-"

"You're Megatron's sole heir," the mech reached out and tweaked a wing, smiling unpleasantly at Mission's suppressed gasp of pain. "Starscream's too, by the looks of these. If there's one thing the Autobots don't need it's a combination of their two most formidable enemies sitting on the Decepticon throne... They'll pay whatever I ask."

"That's if you ever reach them," Mission mustered his confidence, "The Decepticons will be here soon. They know where I am. You think they're just going to let you-"

"We ain't scared a' Cons," the tall mech snorted, "An' we ain't scared a' Megatron either."

"That's because you don't _know_ Megatron," Mission hissed at him.

"He's just a mech," the accented hunter shrugged a shoulder, "Megatron may be your bogeymech, but he's not ours, Con."

"I'm not a Decepticon," Mission tried one last time. "I've never _been_ a Decepticon-"

The mech groaned, looking bored. "Shut him up for Primus's sake," he ordered, turning away.

A fist connected with the back of Mission's helm, and sharp, sickening pain flashed across his sensors. His equilibrium unsettled as protocols rapidly force-shut down systems. His optics rolled to the star filled sky before the lights flickered out.

* * *

The first opportunity Megatron had to get an undisturbed nights recharge and he was wasting it, aimlessly wandering the ship. Every time he thought he'd been on the verge of dozing off, he'd wake up, jolting upright on his berth, processor playing tricks. There was only so many times he could check his empty, silent com for messages.

He watched the stars as he strolled down the security corridor, twinkling jewels in the distance, half expecting one of them to glint red; to come soaring out of the black depths of space and turn into his sparkling.

His servos twitched into fists as he struggled to process the emotion building in his spark. Mission's angry little face and ever-present scowl in his mind's eye. When he got that brat back he'd- he wasn't sure what he'd do actually. There was certainly an instinct to _squeeze_ him...

He turned a corner and happened upon yet another of Mission's marks on his ship. He paused to consider it, sighing heavily. It was a drawing of himself being sucked into a black-hole. Given it's childish nature, Megatron would have assumed Skywarp responsible -had Mission not thought to sign it with his name.

He studied the wonky Cybertronian glyph beneath the mural, lifting a servo to trace it.

" _Missio_ ," he murmured, it's ancient Tarnish meaning ringing clear in his processor. _For War._

He drew back, catching movement out of the corner of his optic.

"You must be proud," he grunted, recognising Starscream's arrogant posture.

"Aren't you?" Starscream stepped into the overhead lights, lifting his helm to appreciate their sparkling's work. "It's how he expresses himself. Like you actually. You spent most of your adult life undermining authority."

"You're talking about yourself."

"Oh?" He saw Starscream cock a hip to one side, "So, the whole... terrorism- insurgency thing. That wasn't you-?"

"This glyph." He interrupted, pointing at the written form of Mission's designation. "You named him in Tarnish?"

"Well I- I-" Starscream looked surprised, and a little caught. "It happens to have meaning in Vosian as well actually!" He announced pompously. "I picked it for both translations."

"And?"

Starscream looked determinately away from him.

"...Freedom," he muttered eventually. "It means 'To Set Free'."

Megatron's chest ached again, an emptiness, a longing. A different sort to what Mission's absence inspired. Like Starscream was still just as out of reach standing right in front of him as he had been half the galaxy away.

His com link beeped, knocking him out of the moment.

"Yes?" He snapped, spark stuttering as he answered it. Starscream stepped closer, wide, desperate optics reflecting his own emotions back at him.

" _Incoming transmission, Lord Megatron_ ," Soundwave's voice answered. " _The security code is out of date_."

Impatience stewing in his tank, Megatron grit his denta, "Who is it?" He hissed.

 _"Lockdown."_

Megatron felt like he was being deflated. He was about to dismiss the call when Starscream's servos wrapped around his wrist, grip painfully tight, and yanked his exterior com down to order, "Patch him through."

" _Acknowledged_ ," Soundwave answered before Megatron could tear himself out of the seeker's grip.

" _Megatron_?" Lockdown's grim voice crackled over the comm. " _Ya gonna wanna strap on that fusion cannon of yours. I got some bad news..."_

* * *

Lockdown boarded the _Nemesis_ within the hour.

He had been reluctant at first, refusing Megatron's offer of credits and weaponry in exchange for more information. It went against his policies to get over-involved. Bad for business, he'd said. That was until Starscream had commandeered the com link again and fired off a triad of threats too vulgar for Megatron's audials to properly process.

It had certainly done the trick though.

"You said there were three of them?" Megatron confirmed, marching Lockdown through the ship back towards the hanger. "Working together?"

"Think so," Lockdown looked nothing short of sheepish, helm low and shoulders stooped. Uncharacteristic of such a cocky mech. "Living outta the same ship at least. Big ugly blue thing. Called... the _Knightfall_ or some'n."

He pulled out a datafile. "Got this offa friend working by the docks..."

Megatron snatched it off him, unsubspacing a datapad and loading it in. The screen came to life with a grainy clip, no more than five seconds long. Three mechs exiting a sleek navy star skiff. A classic style of luxury yacht. Strange mode of transport for a crew of bounty hunters.

"Neutrals?" He asked, zooming in on the individual blurs, glaring at the lead mech. Royal crimson and broad shouldered. "Who are they?"

"Leader's called Reich," Lockdown pointed at the crimson mech, "Talks like he's some kinda Primus-given-gift to the damn universe-"

Speaking of Primus-given-gifts:

"Lockdown!" The door ahead of them whooshed open to expel Starscream, wings high and fanned wide, regal expression twisted into something furious. "You slimy piece of-!"

Megatron watched in astonishment as Lockdown started backing down the corridor, servo and hook out defensively as Starscream advanced; unarmed and a full head shorter than the bounty hunter, but every bit enough of a threat to have one of the galaxies most formidable killers tripping over himself in retreat.

"Hey now Star, don't-"

"What in the pit were you doing?!" Starscream all but screeched when he drew level with Megatron. "Idiot! Three nobodies from the unknown regions just _snatched my sparkling right out of your hook did they_?!"

"It were three against one! I ain't a fraggin' miracle worker, Star! I-"

"Three against one?! How terrifying that must have been for you, you rusting slag heap!" Starscream shoved at Megatron, like he expected him to do something, "Everything they do to him, every tiny scratch and scuff- and you'd better _hope_ that's all there is!- I will do to you! I swear to-"

"Alright, alright," Megatron nudged Starscream behind him again, giving Lockdown a little reprieve. "He gets the picture."

Starscream looked annoyed, and very much like he wanted to hit something. Megatron empathised, though he planned on saving his more violent thoughts for the mechs that took Mission.

He turned back to Lockdown, one last worry that just wouldn't stop plaguing him. "And how can we be sure that there is still a sparkling to rescue?"

Starscream made a pained noise behind him, and Megatron certainly didn't feel any better when Lockdown shrugged, colour draining from his face.

"...He left the planet alive. I know that much."

That was hours ago now. Those mechs had had his sparkling for _hours_.

"I want that ship _found_ ," he growled, aiming a finger at Lockdown's face. "That's your _job_ isn't it?! Finding people?"

"I got friends in every quadrant," Lockdown said easily, trying to pacify him. "That ship passes through any one of them an' we'll know about it."

"So we have to wait for your f _riends_ to just stumble upon them?" Starscream stuck his head around to shout, "That could take-!"

"By morning." Megatron interrupted, "I want coordinates by morning, Lockdown. Somebody's decapitated helm is getting mounted above my throne tomorrow, so you'd best ensure it won't be yours."

"Reading ya loud n' clear," Lockdown grinned, nodding at him and _winking_ at Starscream as he backed away, thumbing behind him. "I'll jus' be getting right on that for ya..."

"Starscream?" Megatron asked as he watched Lockdown limp around the corner and out of sight. "Is there a particular reason that walking scrap yard calls you 'Star'?"

He angled his helm down to peer at the seeker. Starscream's face went blank with innocence.

"Why, no," he answered, in an equally innocent tone. "Of course not."

"He winked at you," Megatron growled, his spark burning. He felt the irrational urge to chase Lockdown down and impale him on his own hook.

"Careful Megatron," Starscream smiled, small and genuine, "Your optics are turning green again."

He almost lifted a servo to them before realising what the seeker meant.

"I'm not-" he snarled. "I'm not jealous!"

"We need Lockdown," Starscream reminded him, "For now at least. Once I have my sparkling back, safe, we can revisit this conversation. You can figure out if you're jealous or not then."

The seeker span on his elegant heel to walk away. Hips doing that annoying sash-sway as he walked, wings high and shimmering against the overhead lights.

"I'm not... jealous," Megatron muttered again, quieter, helm tilting ever so slightly to the side as he watched the seeker walk away.

He was definitely going to shoot Lockdown in the groin.

* * *

A hyperdrive fired to life and gravity shifted. Mission was knocked to the side, onto his wing. Sensors burst to painful life with such force Mission woke with a shout.

Something banged, and the floor beneath him jolted.

"Shut up!" A muffled voice demanded out of the darkness.

Mission reset his optics, searching desperately for some light source. The floor jolted again and all around him rattled. He went to stand and banged his already spinning helm. His wings scrapped walls.

A box. Sickening realisation sunk in as he opened his arms and found he could reach both sides. He was in a box.

His intakes stuttered as he sucked in a deep breath. Too deep probably. He couldn't see any air holes. Couldn't see any _light_.

Twisting awkwardly he brought his left pede up, pressing his thruster against the wall and bracing himself against the other end before igniting it with every bit of firepower he had. The box illuminated in an orange glow. Tiny. Cramped. No room. The metal against his thruster began to brighten with heat, slowly transmuting into a molten red, growing larger with every passing second, growing hotter.

He coughed, intakes rebelling against the strong stench of ozone.

Something banged against the outside of the box again, tipping it over and sending him tumbling. He could hear muffed swearing, a threat.

His thruster hadn't weakened the metal prison in the slightest. All he'd succeeded in doing was turning the heat up by a couple hundred degrees.

With a shout of frustration he kicked out, threw his servos up and hit them against the ceiling, creating as much noise and chaos as he could, biting his lip against the pain the movements brought to his wing. A harsh bang answered him, knocking his box to the side, so he responded by furiously stamping back.

Muffled voices grew louder, angrier. Mission heard thuds, and then a quiet click before a panel above his helm was opening, light streaming in. A large brown servo reached in blindly. Mission drove for it, sinking his claws into a seam at the wrist and tearing at as much of the wiring and fuel lines as he could.

The servo withdrew with a shout.

"Fraggin-!"

He was sent flying by a vicious kick, throwing him around like loose bolts in a barrel. He had barely come to a stop before the box crate was picked up and shaken violently. He came tumbling out onto the floor. The air whooshed from his intakes, winding him.

With a grimace he rolled onto his back, wincing up at the tall dark shadow. Energon dripped off the ends the industrial mech's digits from the torn lines in his wrist, in his other servo he held a short rusty pipe aloft. He looked more than ready to use it.

"Don't kill him," a voice called over casually. Mission looked between the tall mech's legs to see his smaller companion sat on a neighbouring crate, his optics scanning the datapad he held. "Ain't nobody gonna pay for a corpse."

"Wasn't gonna kill him," The larger mech grunted, orange optics staring down at him, a malicious curve to his mouth, "Not yet anyhow..."

"He's gotta survive the trip," the other mech reminded him again, looking up to cast him a stern look. "You wanna smack him around you're gonna have to pay for it."

Mission felt his spark settle slightly at that. He had some leeway. They needed him alive, relatively unharmed as well by the sounds of it.

"He can survive without them fragging claws of his, can't he?" The mech argued grumpily, casting an annoyed look over his shoulder at his companion. "Ain't no harm in breaking a couple digits."

The slimmer mech shrugged, going back to his datapad.

"Don't touch me-" Mission snarled, scrambling to his knees as the mech dropped his pole and stepped forward, "Don't-!"

His attacker grabbed him by the wings and yanked him back, one servo curling around his wrist in a crushing grip.

"You wanna keep these fingers?" The mech threatened, twisting Mission's servo until the pain left him no choice but to comply. "I'll rip them off, ya little brat-"

"Get- get off-!" Mission continued to struggle, even as the mech took hold of his index finger and began to slowly bend it back. "My creator's coming for me!" He shouted.

The mech hummed, continuing to push.

"He'll kill-"

Gears snapped with a burst of pain. Mission cried out, optics watering as he desperately tried to free his servo from the mech's grip.

"Ya creator ain't doing slag," the mech reminded him, "Locked up ain't he? Filthy traitor-"

"He has friends!" Mission yelled, intakes hitching as his next digit was selected. "He-"

The mech laughed cruelly, "Ya mean Lockdown?" He began to twist, straining the delicate components in Mission's servo, laughing at the choked noise he made. "Some friends."

Armour groaned and bent and bent and-

Mission grit his denta against the pain, coolant streaming down his cheeks as another snap lit his sensory net on fire. There was nothing he could do to fight. Nothing to stop this. Nobody was coming. No one-

 _Megatron_ , he thought with sudden desperation. His sire would come. He _would_.

"My sire!" He gasped aloud, onlining damp optics to glare up at his tormenter. "My _sire!_ He's coming-"

Another painful twist.

"You sure bout that?" The mech huffed in amusement, "Two down, eight to go. Which one ya wanna snap next?"

Mission shrieked, kicking out, trying to use his remaining digits to scratch and claw at him.

"For Pit's sake!" The other mech suddenly shouted, slamming his datapad down. "Just shut him the frag up-"

"Fine," the mech snorted. He fumbled to take hold of Mission's remaining digits, and started to _crush_. Mission's vision began to grey, dimming around the edges. "Spoil sport..."

* * *

Starscream griped the airlock's safety bar, offlined his optics, and let the weightlessness of space lift him. Technically, he hadn't left the _Nemesis_. Yes, the airlock was open to the expanse of space and he was on the wrong side of it, but as long as at least one servo kept him anchored to the ship he was still _on_ it.

Megatron could throw whatever hissy fit he wanted. Starscream needed this. The air that had rushed over his wings as the pressure left, the feeling of complete and utter openness before him, soothing overworked proximity sensors and clearing jumbled thoughts.

His digits twitched against the safety bar. What he wouldn't give to just... let go. Let himself drift out and disappear into those black spaces between the stars. Fly away. He'd done it before-

His com pinged and he cracked open an optic. Very few were privileged enough to know the frequency.

Lockdown being one of them.

He cringed when he recognised the bounty hunter's familiar trace and opened the communication.

 _Found the ship_

Irritation forgotten, Starscream couldn't type a response fast enough. _Coordinates. Now._

 _You still owe me that favour, hot wings ;)_

Starscream could feel himself twitching. Slowly he drew himself back into the airlock, sealing the door behind him. _I'm heading to Megatron's quarters._

He exited the airlock into the hanger, watching his com as he walked, waiting for the response.

 _That isn't a great way to flirt_

If Lockdown thought he was going to keep playing his stupid games he had another thing coming. And that 'thing' in question looked likely to be Megatron's fusion cannon.

 _How's the idea of my thruster up your aft for flirting?_ He typed back, dismissing his more colourful threats. He still needed the scrap bucket to cooperate.

 _C'mon Star, don't be like this, we gotta great thing going, sweetspark_

 _Don't call me Star,_ he stabbed the keys with unnecessary force, denta clenched. _Don't call me anything. Our arrangement is now void._

 _It ain't void till I say so_

 _I still have your messages on my com._ Starscream wrote, thinking of every filthy, lewd, cohesive thing the hunter had ever sent him. Every summons. Every proposition. Every thinly viewed threat. _Which I'm sure Megatron will find an interesting read._

That threat seemed to work. There was quite the pause before he received an answer.

 _Knew you'd go crawling back to him_

Starscream could feel the heat rising up his neck. He could argue the point. That he wasn't crawling _anywhere_ and certainly not in the direction of Megatron. But this was his sparkling at stake. Let Lockdown think what he liked.

 _Coordinates_ , he wrote, _I'm outside his quarters_.

And he was, servo poised above the heavy door lock. He slapped the access button.

 _Fine_ , Lockdown replied, just in time, followed by a short string of numbers. _I'll expect a Thank You present_

Starscream smirked at the com just as the doors beeped to admit him. _I'll be sure to tell Megatron. He'll be more than willing to show his gratitude._

"What are you smirking about?" the gruff mech in question asked, appearing in the open doorway.

Starscream forwarded him Lockdown's coordinates. "We found them."

* * *

"Move, and I'll nail ya wings to the floor."

Mission thought he'd imagined the voice. His helm lolled to the side. Warnings flashed before offline optics: LOW FUEL, MALFUNCTION, SENSORS OFFLINE. His arms were dead weight, dexterity and pain receptors offline.

He tried to remember where he was. Not home. Not the _Nemesis_. Not on a soft berth with a warm cube; with his creator, with Skywarp pestering him, with Soundwave watching over him. Not even with his sire, stubborn, and obnoxious, and suffocating, but still his. His family.

"S're...?" He mumbled, glossa as useless as the rest of his frame. He was lying flat on the floor, but it felt like he was spinning, optics rolling in his helm. His tank followed suit.

He was going to purge.

"-choking."

"Let 'im."

"- _wrong_ with him? Told you imbeciles not to sedate-"

Someone was touching his face, fingers digging into the soft derma filling out his cheeks. He wanted to bat them away; their servo large and rough, and they smelt like organic fuel. Not pleasant. Not the musky iron of his sire's armour. Not the subtle spice of his creator's expensive polish.

"Cr'at'r?" He pushed the designation past his lips, optics flickering online in hopes of seeing Starscream's face. He didn't. Just unfamiliar blurs.

"-gonna go into stasis-"

"-think to fuel him?"

"Neither did you!"

That rough servo was pushing his chin up, opening his intakes as something came to his lips. He contemplated biting, when liquid started spilling into his mouth, running down his chin. Energon, he realised, struggling to swallow the charged fuel.

All too soon it was taken away, and his helm was left to drop with a thunk against the steel flooring.

Pain began to register again, his sensory net lighting up like the _Nemesis's_ console during a hyperspace jump. He saw stars, spots of light, a rainbow of colour-

"-be out for hours," a voice was saying as Mission began to fade out again, his little remaining energy working to process the new energon. Servos pulled at him, lifting him up, dragging him along. "Just leave him down in the hold..."


	7. Chapter 7

Starscream studied the diagnostics screen as the ship calculated their hyperspace route. The _Nemesis's_ bridge had been cleared of all but High Command; and himself of course.

"I don't understand," he muttered, half to himself, as the coordinates matched with the star map. Soundwave looked up. "Their course is taking them towards what look like Autobot outposts. But Mission doesn't wear an insignia, why would they-?"

"It would depend entirely on who else knew about his parentage." Megatron's voice carried as he stepped down off the viewing platform.

Soundwave quickly looked down again as his leader approached, imitating a piece of furniture in hopes they'd forget he was there. Starscream rolled his optics at how keen Megatron was to air their dirty laundry in front of the entire crew.

"No one knew," he hissed, "You think I'd be stupid enough to flaunt my sparkling's coding after you've gone and made yourself a reputation being universally hated?"

" _I'm_ universally hated?!" Megatron stared at him.

"No one ever fragging kidnapped him when he was just my son-"

Megatron's servo met the top of the diagnostics screen with a dense thud. Soundwave flinched. "He's never been _just your son_!"

"I _raised_ him!"

Megatron's optics flashed, "That doesn't mean he's any less mine."

The possessive snarl of the warlord's voice sent shudders through Starscream's struts.

"It takes more than shared coding and an accident of fate to be someone's sire!" He yelled, thinking of all the slag he'd taken over the years. The sleepless nights, the constant worry, the endless self-sacrifice of his health and dignity and sanity, and all for one ungrateful sparkling that ended every damn argument with ' _I hate you!'_

All those years trying, doing his damn best; and Megatron manages to get Mission kidnapped in a matter of _weeks_. He hadn't gone through all that just to lose him now. To kidnappers, or Autobots, or even Megatron.

"I won't let you take him from me." He hissed. "He belongs with me. I'm-"

"Yes, you're Creator Of The Year, aren't you?" Megatron snarled right back, bulls-eyeing every one of Starscream's insecurities without even realising. "Was it a sparkling you raised or a feral glitch-tiger?! It's a Primus-damned miracle he's survived so long with you in the first place."

Starscream wasn't sure what it was. Whether it was the way Megatron's lip pulled into a snarl at the corner, how his stern brow drew his expression into scowl so, so familiar that the face before him lost years and scars and looked so much like Mission's.

Or maybe it was their shared ability to hurt every single one of the emotions Starscream pretended not to have whenever they opened their stupid mouths.

He raised his servo.

Megatron's helm snapped to the side, cheek smudged with sky blue paint. Starscream hadn't even registered the sharp sting the impact had left against his palm. He mustered as much unrepentant hate into his expression as he could, intakes fierce and fast.

"You- you-," his optics stung with emotion, and Megatron began to blur as the warlord turned back to face him, huge black digits coming up to rub at his cheek. "-rusty- faithless piece of-"

"Desist." Soundwave voice intoned suddenly, loud besides them. Starscream felt a firm servo clasp his shoulder, saw the other one around Megatron's forearm. "Suggestion; Apologise."

Starscream would have snorted. Like Soundwave honestly expected his bolt-headed fool of a leader to-

"I apologise," Megatron's deep voice rumbled, and Starscream jumped. "We shouldn't be fighting. Not now."

He couldn't even take joy in his ex-commander's awkward apology. Not without Mission. Not without his stupid, naive, loyal, trusting sparkling; and Starscream had no idea where he'd inherited _that_ from because it sure as Pit hadn't been him.

Megatron was looking at him, optics soft with a compassion he definitely didn't deserve to receive. A ridiculous sight with that servo-shaped blue scuff across his cheek.

His breath hitched. _That's_ where Mission got it from.

"I'm not sorry," he muttered, but reached up and used a thumb to wipe away the mark he'd left anyway. "You should be slapped every cycle until it gets rid of that pompous expression you wear."

The corner of Megatron's mouth twitched, curving into a smirk, and his own servo reached for Starscream's face, thumb swiping away a tear from under his optic.

Starscream quickly smacked him away. "I'm not crying!" He exclaimed, blinking away the moisture that had gathered. "It's- looking at your ugly face hurts my optics."

"ETA; one joor," Soundwave interrupted, having returned to the monitor.

Megatron cleared his vocaliser, back straightening as he addressed his forgotten SIC, "Remember to keep your distance. If they're alerted to our presence any sooner than necessary they'll use the opportunity to escape." His optics darkened, "That can't happen."

"Acknowledged," Soundwave nodded. "Air assault party gathered and briefed," he continued, "Pending Starscream's agreement."

"Agreement?" He blinked, looking between Megatron and the lieutenant. "What agreement? You'd better not be planning on locking up me again, you-"

"-To lead the air assault," Megatron explained quickly, before he could start insulting him. "At the request of your trine."

Starscream smirked, "Well, understandably, I _am_ the best seeker for the posit-"

"Negative." Soundwave interrupted. "No one is willing to risk the blame should the rescue prove a failure."

"It's not going to fail." Starscream said angrily, half to convince himself. "...And I'm still the best seeker."

Megatron sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Of course you are."

* * *

They came out of hyperspace under stealth settings, every piece of equipment that could be spared was offline. Starscream and a team of seekers were in the main hanger, waiting for his command.

The navy blue star skiff was hovering just on the edge of Autobot territory, an interception of their communications array had confirmed they were waiting to be granted entry. Megatron wasn't going to let them get that far.

A quick scan of the ship showed three hostile targets on the bridge; and one faint little signature on the other side of the yacht, in the cargo hold. That was all the confirmation Megatron had needed.

"Arm the main guns," he ordered, letting Shockwave flick everything back online, already moving towards the nearest airlock, "Target the bridge and release the seekers."

Shockwave's response was lost as the airlock sealed shut, depressurised, and then ejected him out again. He flipped into flight-mode, banking sharply to avoid being sideswiped by his own seekers as they streaked past in a blur of colour.

There was a sharp crack as the _Nemesis's_ mounted guns open fired on the smaller skiff. Stripes of red blaster fire exploded catastrophically as they hit the un-shielded ship. Within moments the hull had been breached, the main bridge decimated. Megatron rushed to close the distance as Starscream led the seekers through friendly fire and explosions, diving into the carnage head first.

The comms burst to life with noise of blaster fire and battle. Starscream's sadistically manic cackling rose rather impressively over the entire racket.

He'd let Starscream have his fun with the kidnappers for now, the seeker was the more creatively cruel of the two of them, and Megatron was sure he'd leave at least of few pieces behind for him to sate his temper with. For now, he had a greater responsibility to tend to.

He swooped around the back of the ship and took aim at the hanger doors. One blast of his fusion cannon was all it took.

He landed in bipedal form with the sort of grace Starscream would have been proud of, weapon online and ready. The hold was just down the corridor. He could grab Mission, haul him back to the _Nemesis_ , and return to battle all before the action had reached his climax.

A clang of metal stole his attention just as he went to consult the scanned ship's schematics.

He looked up into the surprised gaze of the large brown mech that had just stumbled out of one of the doors. Industrial grade, thick armour and thicker limbs. Megatron recognised him instantly.

The grainy footage Lockdown had sent him, of Mission being cornered, being dragged across the ground, a huge _brown_ fist twisting his tiny wing.

Megatron's rage manifested like a live thing, igniting his spark like a supernova. He had never been a fan of messy, prolonged deaths, not like Starscream was. But _this_ mech? This mech, he wanted to slit his fuel lines and watch life literally drain from his frame. He wanted to crush his intakes, to tear him apart, to make him suffer.

"Where is my son?"

The mech flinched at his voice, optics pale with fear. Megatron took a step, and it was enough to break him from his trance. He turned and ran.

Megatron cocked his fusion cannon, lip curling, and gave chase.

* * *

Alarms blared, and Mission's optics opened to flashing yellow lights.

His processor struggled to keep up with his optics and the room swayed, staked crates and boxes blurring. Pushing himself to his pedes, he winced, knocking the tangled mess his digits had become; mattered with half-dried energon, some of it trickling as far down as his forearms.

He was only just upright when a shudder ran through the ship, throwing him to the floor. Over the alarms he was sure he could hear blaster fire.

There was a porthole on the far wall, streaming starlight. He scrambled towards it, straining on the very tips of his thrusters to see out of it just as a formation of jets screamed past. Seekers.

 _Starscream_?

His relief was short lived. As the seekers shot out of view the stars began to accelerate. If his kidnappers were going to make the jump to lightspeed he needed to get off this ship. Fast.

There was another explosion, this one closer, and he was knocked from the view port.

The alarms cut off, and he was left standing in ominous silence, broken only by the gentle creak of the damaged ship. He could smell burning.

There was an access panel on the inside of the door. A basic model. Easy hack, or it would have been. Mission stared down at his ruined servos abysmally, hesitantly sending a command to move them. He was rewarded with sharp bursts of pain and half a dozen warning messages. Only one of his index fingers twitched.

Using the heel of his servo he managed to knock the panel's casing off, and then resorted to using his denta to bite through the wires he needed. It was awkward, but eventually he managed to twist the wires he needed together. They sparked and the doors shot open.

He stumbled, clutching at the door frame as the air rushed from the room like a vacuum. He soon realised why. This corridor led to the hanger and someone had blown its doors wide open. Only one of them remained, swaying precariously by it's battered hinges.

It would have been the perfect escape route, had he still be able to fly.

He glanced back at his damaged wing, nothing more than a useless sheet of metal, disconnected from it's gears and dangling instead from wires. Mission could no longer feel it. The knot in his tank tightened with worry.

The sounds of blaster fire were much clearer now, some echoing in from outside. He flattened himself against the bulkhead, thinking if he could make his way to the hanger entrance he might be able to signal down one of the seekers and be carried off this smelter pit of a ship-

A screech of metal followed by the dull staccato of fast approaching footsteps distracted him. He slipped against the bulkhead, scrambling for weapons he didn't have as he recognised the lumbering rhythm, the graceless advance of a thug who had certainly chased him down before.

He glimpsed brown armour and lunged on unbalanced legs for the hanger doors.

"You little-!"

The mech looked a little worse for wear -more so than usual. Dented and scrapped, face marred with energon, favouring his left leg, like he'd left the main fight in search of him. Mission could throw himself off the ship, or let himself be cornered. There wasn't any way he could fight. He couldn't even make a fist.

"Get away from me!" He yelled, pressing himself into the corner beside the open hanger, ignoring the indignity of it. " _Help_!"

The stars outside where empty. No jets or _Nemesis_ in sight.

"-trying to escape?" The mech snarled, huge servo reaching for him. "I'll tear your wings off next, you filthy little-"

There was a sudden explosion. Mission jumped as the blast door opposite them compressed inwards. His attacker turned towards it, taking a step back, sneer transmuting into a look of panic a moment too late as another explosion blew the thick reinforced door straight off it's hinges and blasted it with deadly speed straight at him.

The mech disappeared with a sickening crunch and a splatter of energon. Mission stared at the door imbedded in the wall next to him, and what little remains he could see of the mech. His attacker's life fluid fell in streams and splatters down the bulkhead to puddle on the floor. He could feel it on his armour. He was covered in it. Little flecks of it already drying against his faceplates.

He shrunk back against the wall, sliding down it until he sitting.

A pair of black pedes stepped smoothly in front of him, blocking the gruesome view. _Megatron_ , Mission realised numbly, listening to the hammer of his spark against its casing.

 _Stay put_ , he remembers his sire telling him, only cycles ago. _I won't be long._

Mission's optics and nose began to burn. He shuttered his optics tight, refusing to look up, to meet his sire's gaze.

Megatron closed in anyway, drooping to one knee. Mission flinched when two large servos hooked under his arms.

"Mission...," his sire breathed against his audial, and he was lifted to a warm chest. His nose meet the hard, broad armour of Megatron's shoulder and he pushed into it.

Megatron didn't say anything more, just laid one servo across his back, under his wings, brushing the derma plates there gently, soothingly, as he carried him.

Lighting changed and the echo of voices grew, familiar voices. He could smell energon and blaster fire and smoke, like there had been some huge battle. He wasn't curious enough to lift his helm to see though.

"Mission?"

His creator's voice was pitches higher than it should have been, a harrowing squawk of emotion, distress and relief all rolled into one. Mission smeared his wet face against Megatron's armour as his sire's servos began to draw him away, passing him into smaller, smoother servos, and he was crushed into the tightest hug that'd ever been inflicted on him.

His olfactory sensors registered the smell before anything else, expensive polish and ozone. Mission's breath hitched on the exhale.

"M' sorry," he gasped, forehelm pressed against the glass of Starscream's cockpit. His coolant streaked cheeks burned. "I didn't-"

He was being shushed, his creator's lips brushing the top of his helm. Careful digits grazed his back, between his wings, pausing at the damage. "Those bastards..."

Mission cringed, kept his helm ducked, growing ever more aware of his audience. The low murmuring of the other watching Decepticons an afterthought in comparison to the silent presence beside him, just an arms length away from him and his creator, waiting to separate them again. Mission didn't know if he could bear it.

"We need to get him back to the _Nemesis_ ," Megatron's voice was loud and close. Mission clutched his creator even harder. "He's damaged."

Mission could feel his creator nodding, could feel the movement of other mechs passing by. He caught a glimpse of purple and heard Skywarp's surprisingly steady voice, whispering a reassurance. They left the battle scorched bridge of the bounty hunter's ship, and Mission risked a glance upwards when he heard transformation cogs and thrusters.

The _Nemesis_ loomed out a large hole blown into the side of the upper deck, just a short blast of thrusters away. Starscream was fidgeting uncomfortably though, and unlike the others he wasn't transforming.

"It'll be less than a minute," Megatron's voice said, and Mission felt his servos under his arms again. "Give him here."

Mission's spark jolted back to it's drum-like rate. His slippery digits scrapped against his creator's back, but he was being drawn away anyway. "No..."

"I know I never say this," Starscream told him quietly, letting him pass into Megatron's larger servos. "But I want you to trust your sire."

He didn't have chance for further protest before Megatron was transforming, locking him into the safety of his flight capable alt-mode. Restraints snapped across him, pinning him to his seat as the rumble of engines vibrated beneath him. It had been vorns since he was small enough to travel like this inside his creator...

"Let's get you home," Megatron's voice came through the speakers, low and gentle, before the roar of thrusters drowned everything else out.

Mission slumped back against his seat, watching the _Nemesis_ approach through the window.

* * *

Mission had never looked so small, curled up in that corner of the hanger, wide optic'd and stunned, tears cutting through the energon splattered across his face. When Megatron had picked him up, he hadn't been sure he would ever be able to put him back down.

Now gliding into the main hanger of the all too familiar flagship, Mission had quietened down. Megatron could feel him shaking against him, half-repressed shivers running up and down his tiny frame. It might be the damage, or a fuel shortage.

Or he might be frightened, Megatron realised. He shouldn't be. He was safe now. Megatron wasn't to going to let anything hurt him ever again.

Starscream was already aboard the ship, having flown ahead of him to ensure he could pull their sparkling back into his arms the moment it was possible. Once Mission was clear Megatron transformed back, spark twisting at the sight of his son's dangling wing. He'd seen enough grounded seekers to know how much that hurt.

Mission was a tough little brat.

He left Shockwave to the aftermath, he could organise the cannibalisation of captured star skiff however he liked. They had little use for it asides from the spare parts and energon it might carry. He passed on the orders and strode fast to catch up with Starscream on his way to the medbay.

He had a duty to fulfil.

"Wait," he told Starscream outside the medbay, holding up a servo when the seeker looked ready to protest. "Just give me one moment..."

He didn't leave Starscream a chance to argue, stepping through the door ahead of him.

Hook had been on standby since they had left the _Nemesis_ and was waiting for him. Save from the medic, the medbay was empty, the few injuries earned during the attack superficial enough to wait.

"My Lord," Hook inclined his helm, "I received word from Soundwave-"

Megatron stalked the length of the room and took the medic by the throat, tight enough to silence him, but loose enough to keep him breathing. Hook stared at him with wide, alarmed optics.

Megatron lifted him to optic leaving, drawing him in close.

"My son is frightened," he snarled, letting his anger over the situation mask the ache in his spark. "And damaged. You will sedate him, and repair him as quickly and as painlessly as physically possible. If you do anything, anything to upset him further -"

Hook was nodding his helm hurriedly, vocaliser strained with the fist curled around it, "Of-of course I- I would never-"

The doors opened behind them to admit Starscream. Megatron glowered at Hook one last time before dropping him back to his pedes and stepping back. The medic gasped for breath, clutching his throat.

The huddled ball of crimson in Starscream's arms was in obvious distress, tiny shoulders shaking, broken wing twitching in pain.

"I'm going to sedate him," Hook croaked, vocaliser a little strained from the throttling he'd just been given. He was wise to keep out Mission's line of sight as he prepared the shot.

No medic in the universe could match the stealth Hook had acquired over the vorns treating Decepticons. Few patients were as impractically violent and irrational on mass. Mission barely had time to jump from the pinch before the sedative was taking effective.

Megatron watched his wings settle against his back, his helm slump sideways across Starscream's shoulder. He was out.

Starscream consented to move no further than the end of the medical berth as Hook began to work, one servo still clutching Mission's tiny thruster, thumb stroking across the smooth metal. Megatron stood beside him, watching, hardly considering the way Starscream's free servo kept brushing his until suddenly they were intwined. He didn't pull away.

Hook had to remove most of Mission's digits the damaged components were so tiny, using tweezers and magnifiers. Megatron felt a flare of insatiable hate burn at the bottom of his throat. He gripped Starscream's servo tighter.

"Shouldn't have killed them," he fumed, thinking of the mech he'd crushed beneath the door. A quick death. Sudden. He'd barely suffered. "Should have brought them back alive."

"And brought them on-board to torture?" Starscream sounded, surprisingly, amused. "I wonder how your son would have felt about that."

"He would want the opportunity for vengeance," Megatron growled darkly, looking down upon Mission's slack face.

"You're so old," Starscream squeezed his servo, one of his wings brushed Megatron's arm, "You can't remember being a sparkling at all, can you?"

Megatron had long ago run out of patience for Starscream's ribbing about his age. But the seeker's tone was fond, affectionate almost, his optics warm and soft. He found it didn't bother him so much.

"Almost done." Hook's voice interrupted. He was soldering the last few pieces of Mission's wing back together. "Should be coming 'round soon."

Mission's newly repaired servos were coated in a diluted phosphate solution and then wrapped up in protective rubberised sealant to prevent rusting whilst they continued to heal under his frame's own self-repair.

Though Megatron thought it looked a bit like he was wearing mittens.

He wasn't going to be pleased when he woke up...

* * *

Megatron should have known it was suspicious that Starscream let him carry their sparkling back to the officer's quarters. The first half of the journey was civilised at least. Mission was only just coming around, optics blinking on and off, helm lolling from side to side against his shoulder.

However, the more he came to, the more it was becoming apparent to Megatron that the aftereffects powerful sedatives had on sparklings were not quite the same as they were on adults. In short, it was like wrestling with a drunk.

Starscream was watching in amusement as Mission haphazardly swung his servo up to smack Megatron across the nose once again. He sighed, trying to take hold of the offending, bandaged up limb, only for Mission to use his other one, whacking him on the cheek.

"No, Mission," he huffed, unable to find any real authority to inflict into his tone. "Stop- _stop_ it."

'No' might as well have meant 'harder'. Mission's glossa stuck out in concentration as he threw his arm back for maximum force.

"Alright no," Starscream finally found his sense of decency and intervened, catching Mission's servo before he could falcon punch his sire across the face. "Careful."

Mission mumbled something incoherent, looking conflicted, like he wasn't sure what to do with himself if he couldn't inflict pain upon the mech carrying him.

"Don't hit Sire," Starscream told him, tone teasingly patronising, "Be gentle."

And he twisted closer. Leaning up. Leaning _in_. Megatron's spark jolted as the seeker's gaze snapped up to meet his own. "Like this..."

Starscream's breath ghosted across his lips as his slender servo caught his cheek, and pulled him in for a kiss. And it was more than that just an example. Warm and gentle, so slow he felt like he was melting into It. Every tiny twitch of Starscream's lips deliberate and firm. And finally Megatron knew where they stood. The arm he wasn't using to support Mission curved around the seeker's narrow waist, tugged him closer-

When a solid slap to the side of his helm interrupted them. Starscream broke away laughing, his sharp cackle a surprisingly soothing sound.

Megatron turned his helm to consider Mission's scowling face, "Feeling left out?"

Without preamble he leant in to press a chaste kiss to Mission's sparkling soft cheek, mouth quirking at the fidgety response the action received. Mission was with it enough to melodramatically scrub at his face, disgusted.

"I'm glad you're his sire," Starscream admitted quietly, and it was probably the only admission he was ever going to get from the seeker. And surprisingly that was enough.

Mission slapped his mouth before he could respond. He glared at the sparkling.

Starscream just laughed.

* * *

They'd drugged him. Traitors.

He didn't remember much. And what he did... he wasn't sure were dreams. Surreal things like flying doors and rusty monsters jumping out from shadows, to the impossible, like his creator leaning up on the tips of his thrusters just to reach his sire's lips, smiling like he didn't smile at anyone, like they were in love.

Must have been some strong sedatives.

Wherever he was the lights were set low. A quick check of his chrono confirmed it was the middle of the night. He sighed, exhausted, numb enough to just let himself roll over and go-

His wing brushed something but no sensor warnings popped up. Surprised, he flexed it. It was repaired. He twisted to see it, noticing his servos-

"Mission," a low, tired voice murmured above his helm, intakes wafting warm air across the top of his helm. "Go back to recharge..."

The berth he thought he'd been lying on shifted then, proving that it really wasn't a berth, but an arm. _Megatron's_ arm.

"Sire?" He blurted before his processor kicked into gear. His face began to burn at the familial address. Two crimson optics appeared beside him, illuminating a stern, regal face. Mission's helm was still quite -very- fuzzy, but he was sure it was Megatron.

"Where-?" His spark skipped a beat, helm whipping around, searching for his creator. "Where's-"

And he almost toppled off the end of whatever was supporting him. He gasped, arms pinwheeling in panic as he overbalanced off the edge, only for one large servo to catch him around the middle.

"Third time you've done that," his sire grumbled, lifting him back into his lap.

It was then that Mission recognised the interior of Megatron's quarters. They were on the sofa at the far wall, the berth was already occupied. He recognised the shape of the wings immediately. He lunged, "Crea-!"

And was promptly recaptured, "Careful," his sire's voice was soft, and suspiciously void of aggression. "Remember what happened last time."

Mission didn't. Apparently this wasn't the first time he'd been awake.

Two servos slipped under his arms and lifted him, lowering him gently to the floor. They had barely withdrawn before Mission tried taking a step. His knee joints buckled from underneath him, like the gears and struts of his legs had turned to jelly. Before he could face-plant the floor he was caught again, and set right on his pedes.

His sire's quiet huff of amusement set his cheeks ablaze.

"Is it wise of you to ridicule a mech you've invited into your quarters? Where you sleep?" He demanded, talking slowly and deliberately around his numb glossa.

"You're not a mech," his sire appeared unintimidated, "And you've been making an idiot of yourself all evening, so I'd shut up and do as I was told if I were you."

Mission scowled. He'd never done as he was told when it was just Starscream. He certainly wasn't going to do it now that there might be two of them ganging up on him. "The only idiot I see here is you."

"Stop trying to provoke me," His sire said, though it hardly sounded like he was losing his temper. "You're going to wake your creator."

Mission glanced back to Starscream on the berth, the steady rise and fall of his back and wings as his intakes worked, deeper in recharge than Mission thought he might ever have seen him. He moved to take a step when he was suddenly scooped up.

He made a rather undignified noise of surprise, dangling precariously over his sire's arm as he was carried to the berth. Megatron threw back the insulation covers and let him drop to the berth. He bounced once on his aft, a puff of air escaping his intakes. Beside him Starscream stirred, but didn't wake.

"Now go to recharge," his sire murmured again, drawing the covers back up and tucking them around him. Tight. Restraining him.

"You're-!"

"Don't fall out of the berth again," his sire leant in, clearly amused. Sadist.

"I don't need _tucking in-!"_

Megatron hushed him, looking pointedly at the seeker slumbering on the other side of the berth. "Be _quiet_."

The warning in his sire's tone inspired a well-missed streak of rebellion in him. He pulled against the covers, "Or else what?"

"I'll do something unpleasant to you."

Mission didn't believe that for a second. He scoffed, "Unlikely. You're my-" he stopped, cleared his vocaliser, "I _know_ you're not going to hurt me."

"Hurt you?" His sire leant back, straightening to his full intimidating height and towering over the berth. He looked smug. Never a good sign. "Who said anything about hurting you? Starscream told me you were ticklish-"

"No!" Mission's spark leapt into his throat. He scrambled across the berth before his sire could reach for him. "I'll scream!" He threatened.

"Another time then," his sire didn't retract the threat as he moved to straighten the covers. "Lie down."

Mission pressed his lips together tightly; he knew when he'd been beaten. He reluctantly settled back. "Fine," he consented, "But you dare tell anyone about this-"

"Who would I tell?" His sire asked with a smirk.

 _Everyone_ , Mission thought dejectedly, turning his face into the berth.

"Think you can manage to stay put this time?"

Megatron's tone was light, teasing, but something about it made Mission's spark twitch. He would have tightened his fists had they not been wrapped in so much protective rubber. Yet another affront to his rapidly diminishing dignity. None of this would have happened if he'd just...

He stared at the back of his creator's wings, wondering what it would take to stay with both of them.

"I don't have any plans to leave," he told Megatron, "Not yet."

Digits too gentle to belong to a miner turned warlord brushed his helm before Megatron began to retreat from his berthside, "Goodnight, Mission."

"...Goodnight Sire."

Mission could see Megatron's smile from across the room. He hid his own against the covers.

Probably the sedatives.


	8. Chapter 8

As a sparkling, Starscream remembered his creator once complaining of how he must have been moulded in rubber, rather than forged in iron. He was durable, bounced back. Hardly anything to complain about. That was until Mission had first learnt to walk on his own two wobbly pedes all those vorns ago; adventurous and fearless and unspeakably clumsily, but no amount of bumps, scraps, falls or breaks could ever slow him down for long.

It was exhausting.

"You're supposed to be _injured_!" He snarled, temper flaring as Mission continued to completely and utterly ignore him like the disrespectful little hooligan he himself had once been.

He stalked around the corner before he could lose sight of the loose cannon, fingers twitching with the temptation to switch on his com and message Megatron. The threat 'Just you wait until your Sire hears about this!' still on the tip of his glossa. But really who was he kidding? Like Mission was any more intimidated by Megatron than he was orphaned turbo-puppies.

Still, some backup would be appreciated. One short walk through the security corridors to pacify their mounting cabin fever and his sparkling had managed to turn it into a ship-wide cyber-goose chase.

The elevators appeared up ahead.

"Mission!" He screeched, "Don't you _dar_ -!"

Mission made a point of turning to look at him as he pressed the elevator button, a smile flitting across his lips as the doors slipped closed, Starscream half a second too slow to catch it.

He was going to kill him. He was-

-he was almost resentful of the uncommonly fast recovery time.

Just two nights ago he hadn't known what he'd find when Megatron had come stamping onto the bridge of that star skiff, his sparkling a small, vulnerable ball of armour huddled up against his sire's chest. But Mission was enduring, further strengthened by a certain excess of stubborn determination he'd inevitably inherited from his blockhead of a sire. Excellent qualities in a seeker. A Decepticon. A leader even.

Not such an excellent quality when it meant he was a law unto himself and required an entire Air Force of Decepticons to curtail.

"I thought you said I could see him?" Skywarp was using the opportunity to whine, rather than actually look for Mission. "You said as soon as he came roun-"

"As soon as he came round he went running out the fragging door, Skywarp!" Starscream snarled, checking his chrono and wondering if he'd still have time to find Mission, get back to Megatron's quarters and pretend this had never happened before Megatron's war council finished. "He's not supposed to be out-"

"Then why'd you let him out?"

"Because _I_ wanted out!" He snapped, "Now he's probably gone and gotten himself ejected from the ship with the garbage or-"

"He's not stupid," Skywarp sounded defensive, "He wouldn't-"

Starscream gave him a look, "He _is_ that stupid. He's Megatron's son."

* * *

If this was to be his ship one cycle, certainly he should be allowed free reign, shouldn't he?

Mission found himself above the uppermost deck of the warship, on a rather elegant viewing platform. The ceiling and walls were all one single sheet of domed glass. It's positioning meant that not only could he see two hundred and seventy degrees worth of stars, but also the entire length of the _Nemesis_.

Across from him, extending above the helm of the ship, was the bridge. If he focused his optics as far as they could go, he could see in through the windows. His sire's war council was still in session. Mission could see him standing above the others, pacing on a raised platform.

"You're grounded," a voice made him jump.

What was it about Decepticons and their an inability to announce themselves when entering a room? He puffed himself up, hiding the ridiculous sight of his recovering servos behind his back as he turned to face Thundercracker.

The snappy retort poised on the tip of his glossa died quickly though, his optics drawn to the long darkened scar marring Thundercracker's wing. He'd done that.

"I'm sorry," he dropped his helm, tearing his gaze away from it.

"For running off again?" Thundercracker quirked an optical ridge, amused, "Really?"

"Of course not. It's for-" he hesitated, "Your wing."

Thundercracker reset his optics in surprise, then glanced at the scar, as if he'd forgotten he even had it. "Oh."

"I hadn't been informed of your presence," Mission continued, feeling he needed to explain himself anyway, "I certainly hadn't intended on injuring you."

"It doesn't matter," Thundercracker shrugged easily, "I forgive you."

"You do?"

"Of course, we're family."

The word struck something deep in the centre of Mission's chest. "Yes... I suppose we are."

"Come on, quick," Thundercracker waved him towards the steps, "Starscream's looking for you. He has everyone on a mass search."

Mission cringed. "I expect he's furious.

"Don't worry about it." Thundercracker patted his shoulder, "He's taking it out on Skywarp."

* * *

Megatron was about as useless as Starscream when it came to expressing himself. Mission was was used to emotionally stunted parental figures anyway, so it suited him fine. Better still, his sire at least had a tendency to overcompensate, indulging him in gifts to make up for it.

He had little use for toys (not that the colourful puzzle games Skywarp had given him were an unwelcome challenge) so Megatron wasn't stupid enough to insult him with them. Everything from tools and data files, to deactivated weaponry; everything he could ever even think to ask for. He was being spoilt.

Not that there was a spark onboard who would dare tell their leader that. Even his creator, who frequently tripped over and bashed his pedes against the assortment of 'slag' Mission neglected to ever pick up off the floor remained silent on the matter.

And _he_ certainly wasn't going to tell him, Mission thought, breaking into a new high-definition drawing pad. Megatron's desk in the corner was piled high with them already. _These are reusable you know?_ His sire had informed him after the fifty something'th drawing had been handed over for his inspection.

Still waiting for his masterpeices to be appropriately displayed across the ship, Mission had replied _still, better the drawing pads than your walls..._

That had shut him up.

He was just sketching the outline of the galaxy he'd watched the ship pass on the bridge that morning when the door beeped positively. He glanced up, stylus poised over a bright collection of stars, and watched his creator step in.

And almost dropped the stylus in surprise.

Starscream smirked at him, wings fanning forward to show off their impressive span and the brand new, glossy purple insignias adorning them.

"It's a surprise," his creator twisted, admiring his reflection in a nearby mirror, "A gift for your sire. Think he'll like them?"

Mission couldn't think of any reason Megatron would appreciate his creator painting a couple of Decepticon insignias on himself and then calling it a gift. He wrinkled his nose, "Wouldn't he prefer some sort of weapon?"

Starscream just laughed. He'd been doing that a lot lately. Being _happy._ It was starting to weird him out.

"Trust me," Starscream flicked his wings back. "He'll like them."

Mission considered it. Perhaps it wasn't really about the insignias, rather what they it represented. Starscream had been branded with them vorns ago, Mission remembered tracing over the indentations with his fingers when he'd been small, wondering what they were and why his creator had them hidden beneath so much paint. Now they had been repainted, bold and vibrant purple.

His creator was a Decepticon again.

He dropped his stylus, art forgotten. "When can I get mine?"

* * *

It turned out that Shockwave had lost the branding iron. Mission didn't believe him.

"When I recover it, I shall let you know," Shockwave told him, sharing a look with his creator that Mission certainly _did_ notice. He suspected some sort of conspiracy between the two of them.

Sadly, he had to settle for having the insignia merely painted on for now. Mission couldn't help but admire Shockwave's steady servo, painting the straight lines and narrow edges with perfect precision. He'd have to ask him to draw with him some time.

"Well," Shockwave sighed, adding the finishing touches to the last insignia. "You are now officially our youngest Decepticon."

Mission scowled.

"Stop making that face," Starscream admonished, turning him by his shoulders. "Let me look at you."

Mission stood as tall and proud as he could manage, wings high and wide, the fresh paint glinting in the overhead lights.

"Fit to rule us already. Wouldn't you say, Shockwave?"

The purple mech nodded indulgently, "Lord Megatron will most certainly be proud."

Mission felt his spark swell in his chest. He turned to his reflection in one of the windows, folding his arms across his chest. Now all he needed was a fusion cannon of his own.

* * *

Megatron threw himself across his dishevelled berth, relishing it's emptiness. His optics snapped back online as he felt something _dig_ into his back. Wincing he reached around himself, and pulled out a stylus.

 _Mission_. He sighed, flicking it away so it could join the rest of his sparkling's mess amongst the floor.

It had been over a week since he had inadvertently invited the two seeker's into his quarters. One night recharging on the sofa to free up the berth for a semi-comatose sparkling and his fretting creator had somehow turned into two, then three, and so on. He wasn't sure how much more his ageing back struts could take.

He turned his helm, brushing the mused insulation covers, wondering briefly on how both seekers were so criminally lazy they couldn't even make the berth- when he caught the lingering scent of Starscream's polish.

He knew which one it was now. A pot of it still sat in his private washroom from when he'd woken one morning to find Starscream shining himself with it in the doorway. He'd gestured him over, finger hooked coyly, "- _join me? I can't seem to reach my back..."_

He'd been all too happy to oblige; before Mission had come bursting in, of course.

One occasion of many.

Starscream was anything but subtle with his advances, and he hoped, despite his occasional fumbling, he was sending the right singles back. Sadly, it didn't matter much who was 'accidentally' dropping things just so they could bend over, or who was waiting up until just the right moment to 'inconveniently' squeeze through doorways together, because the moment Megatron even thought about moving to touch Starscream's slender, glossy frame-

"Sire!" An enthusiastic voice yelled.

 _That_ happened.

Megatron sat bolt upright, jumpy movements betraying his surprise. The warmth that had built at his core quickly evaporated as he focussed on the little spitfire of a sparkling jumping onto the berth besides him, an uncharacteristically broad smile stretching across his face.

He couldn't help but smile back, "You're in a suspiciously good mood."

Mission didn't say anything, sitting back on his heels. His wings folded forward slightly, drawing attention to two marks of paint that hadn't been there this morning. His spark softened at the sight of Mission's expectant expression. A breathless noise of charmed disbelief escaped him.

He had that odd urge to squeeze his sparkling again.

"Careful!" Mission shuffled back with an annoyed noise when he reached for him. "Honestly Sire, you'll smudge the paint-"

"You can smudge _my_ paint," a sultry voice announced.

A moment before and Megatron would have firmly denied that anyone could look better than his son wearing his symbol. But Starscream had just appeared in his doorway, leaning up against the frame, one long leg bent, wings arched high and glinting in the artificial lights, violet insignias a stark contrast against the white of his wings. He was smirking, because he _knew_ how he looked.

And besides all that: a tiny lick of purple paint though it may have been, it was the closest Megatron was ever going to get to Starscream telling him he was going to stay.

For once, words failed him.

Starscream pushed off from the doorframe, gliding movements carrying across the room to the narrow entrance leading to the private washroom.

"I think I'm going to rinse off," he said, looking to Megatron pointedly. "I'm feeling a little... dirty."

He slipped inside, casting the most _obvious_ look back at Megatron before the door closed.

Something between his hips _throbbed_.

"That was unusual," Mission commented, but for the most part, was oblivious.

"Yes," he answered distractedly, already rolling off the berth, scooping up the first thing he could find off the floor and pushing it into his sparkling's servos. "Here, you haven't drawn me anything yet today-"

"My art works are _gifts_ , not favours-"

"Yes, I know," he huffed, finding that stylus he'd thrown earlier and returning it to its owner. "You just... stay here. There's something I need to discuss with your creator in private-"

"In the washroom?"

"You're starting to look a little grubby actually," Megatron bluffed, stepping towards the sparkling, "Maybe you could use a good scrub-"

"No, I don't," Mission blanched, quickly involving himself in his datapad. "I'm fine. I'm clean. Stop pestering me."

Sparkling suitably deterred from eavesdropping, Megatron pressed the door access for the washroom, praying he'd read the situation correctly.

Starscream was stood under the spray of solvent, his back and wings to him, glistening wet with cleaning solution. The seeker's helm turned, his crimson optics meeting his gaze over the top of one lowered wing.

He dangled a wash cloth between his thumb and forefinger. "I could use an extra pair of servos."

Megatron didn't need any encouragement, stepping under the warm spray, pausing bare inches from the seeker's narrow back before taking the wash cloth. Then dropping it to the floor with a wet slap.

Starscream stiffened, wings twitching temptingly. "What?" He purred coyly, "No foreplay?"

Megatron lowered his servos to Starscream's full hips, rubbing the smooth metal briefly before drawing them back, bumping the seeker's aft against his groin. The array beneath his interface panel ached with pressure and heat. He rocked himself gently, and Starscream released a pleased little sound, his slender servos coming down to cover his own, encouraging the contact.

It took every bit of his rapidly diminishing self-control not to throw the little tease against the wall.

"I think we're past foreplay," Megatron murmured against the side of Starscream's helm, fitting himself close. Wings fluttered against his chest armour as the seeker wriggled. "Don't you?"

Starscream twisted, and Megatron let him slide through his servos to face him. The swell of his cockpit knocked against his chest. Solvent dripped off the end of the seeker's nose, glistened across his lips, dampening what was already a wet messy kiss as Starscream surged up to meet him, hastily clashing their mouths together, tonguing him like an adolescent on his first date.

His own enthusiasm found Starscream stumbling, armour sliding against the solvent splattered bulkhead with a wet squeak, one arm thrown out to catch himself, a half-swallowed laugh of surprise bursting from his vocaliser. Megatron could feel him smiling against his mouth.

"Play nice," the seeker breathed against him.

Megatron had absolutely no intention of playing nice. He slapped a servo to the seeker's aft, smirking at the yelp of surprise it earned him; well worth the punishing whack to his shoulder.

He slipped his servos further down, taking hold of two shapely thighs and lifting. Starscream was light; even for a seeker, _even_ for hauling the weight of that inflated ego around. He hitched him up the wall easily, wings squealing against the bulkhead, thighs opening to welcome him between them. He kept Starscream pinned with his weight, hips rolling sinuously.

The seeker ducked his helm, burying himself against Megatron's neck; mouth and glossa working at the sensitive seams. He groaned, arching his neck. The warm knot of tension below his tank swelled. His panel unlatched with a telling click.

Starscream's servo dived between them, plunging between his thighs. Megatron flinched as deft fingers found his spike housing and started teasing him out. He bucked into it. "Starscream..."

The seeker's mouth trailed up his neck, nibbled along his jaw, "Like that?" He purred, hips shifting in Megatron's grasp. There was another click and Starscream's fingers were suddenly slick with something conductive and certainly not solvent.

His spike twitched, extended fully now into the seeker's servo. He thrust against him, processor hazy with want. He wanted Starscream. Wanted _in_ -

He knocked Starscream's servo away, pressing himself closer. The tip of his spike grazed warm, wet folds of mesh. Starscream's intakes stuttered, he squirmed, anticipation and arousal colouring his cheeks. Megatron nudged himself in, savouring the tight, warm pull of Starscream's valve as it swallowed his tip.

The seeker's helm fell back, optics offline, expression strained, "Please-"

A puff of air escaped Megatron's intakes, he drew back.

Starscream released a choked sob, digits digging into the armour of his shoulders, claws scrapping paint, completely undone.

"What was that?" Megatron teased, even though he himself was nearly shaking, fluid drooling down his shaft from his tip, desperate to sink back into the seeker. "Please- _what_?"

"You," Starscream whispered, the solvent spray running down his face looked like tears, he shuttered his optics against the spray. "Primus, please, _please_ -"

Megatron brushed his lips across Starscream's exposed throat, "Since you asked so nicely..."

He rocked forward, his spike dipping in and out of the soft mesh until Starscream's callipers began to relax, opening up for him. With an approving hum, he gilded forward, lubricated valve and solvent slick spike easing the entry.

Starscream moaned thickly, twitching both inside and out, drawing him deeper, callipers clutching at him and squeezing him and-

" _Starscream_ ," he groaned, jaw clenched; the charge between his hips building and threatening to overspill embarrassingly soon. "Primus, just-"

"Yes," the seeker hissed, legs curving around Megatron's hips. His thruster heels dug into the small of his back and pushed at him until his spike was hilt deep. "Come on. C'mon-"

Megatron began to move, pelvis moving in a roll and snap, jolting the seeker's light frame with every firm thrust. He watched pretty white wings knock back against the bulkhead at the increasing rhythm. Starscream didn't seem to care, hips matching the motion of his own, legs squeezing around him-

"Faster-" Starscream whispered, desperate against lips, almost inaudible above the pinging of solvent against their armour. "C'mon you old- faster-!"

Megatron shoved him harder against the wall, arousal bubbling at the seeker's sharp gasp, the flicker of his dimming optics.

"This what you want, brat?" He ground deep, and Starscream's valve fluttered around him.

Starscream's response was muffled in vain by the denta biting into his lower lip, a strained, needy whine. His intakes hitched, and his helm arched back. The pressure around Megatron's spike increased ten fold.

Starscream was overloading, he realised with surprise, thrusts faltering under the waves of secondary charge trying to drag him along for the ride. Lubricant soaked his thighs as it spilled from the seeker, mingling with the solvent already rushing down his legs. It's musky, warm scent rising and flooding his olfactory sensors.

Warmth swelled at the base of his spike, and with one hard thrust, hitching Starscream a good few inches higher, wings hitting the bulkhead with a sharp clack, it burst. He came, snarling like a beast, digits digging into the smooth armour of Starscream's thighs as he spilled into him in drawn out pulses, spike twitching as it marked it's territory. Marked Starscream as his. _His_.

He let his mouth drift across the seeker's neck, denta bared, playing with the idea of biting him, marking him there too.

The frame in his arms began to shake. A quick glance told him Starscream was laughing, breathless and high.

"Haven't- haven't been, fragged like _that_ in- in over a decade!"

Megatron huffed, "What a coincidence."

The vice-like grip Starscream's legs had around his hips began to let up. Reluctantly, he let shapely thighs slip from his grasp, rocking his hips just once, teasingly, before drawing out, spike already depressurising.

He helped ease the seeker's pedes back to the floor, and was staring distractedly at the trickle of silvery fluid that escaped between Starscream's thighs, when a blue digit came down and swiped it away. Megatron's helm shot up as the seeker casually lifted it to his mouth and licked it away, smirking.

Heat began to pool between his hips again, spike rising to attention.

"No," Starscream said firmly, pointing at his nose like an owner reprimanding it's unruly pet. "Put it away."

Megatron huffed his displeasure, but did as he was told, tucking himself back beneath his panel as he watched Starscream reach up for the solvent nozzle and remove it from it's holder. His brow arched curiously as the seeker turned to wink at him before lowering the nozzle and aiming the jet right up between his-

"Starscream!" He turned away, appalled.

"What?" The seeker's voice rang over the harsh spray of solvent. "I'm cleaning up _your_ mess."

The rush of solvent suddenly became a lot more muffled. Megatron didn't dare turn to see what the damn seeker was doing with it now. Resigning his shower to its fate, he headed towards the door, "Just... don't break it," he sighed.

* * *

Starscream hadn't expected any company on the main bridge. The lights were low and the systems on standby. The _Nemesis_ was taking a break between hyperspace jumps, drifting lethargically against the glittering canvas of the nearby star systems. He was at the navicomputers, taking the opportunity to look over the coordinates for their next leap into lightspeed, glossa flicking against his denta in disappointment.

Fuel conservation seemed to get tossed into the afterburners when it came to the _Nemesis_ , Megatron preferring to waste much needed energon just to get himself places a little bit faster.

Starscream glanced around, double checking that he was truly alone, before altering their course ever so slightly. Megatron didn't even need to kn-

His stream of thought was cut off by a purple flash. His spark leapt into his throat, servos skidding across the keyboard, marring the coordinates with typos.

"Skywarp!" He snapped, quickly erasing the mistakes before the navicomputer did itself an injury trying to calculate them.

"Hey, _Screamer_ ," Skywarp called suggestively, brows dancing across his forehelm idiotically.

His tone had Starscream whipping around in concern, frown drawn across his features. He didn't like the look of Skywarp's grin.

"...What?"

Skywarp kept him waiting in suspense for a little while longer as he moved around the console and lifted himself atop it. Starscream, who had long ago given up telling him off for sitting on the equipment, sighed.

"Heard you got laid."

Starscream's optics nearly bulged out of his helm, "Who- WHAT!?"

He played up his anger in hopes it might cover mounting embarrassment. Megatron had always said he was loud, but for Skywarp to have heard him from across the ship-!?

"How do you-!?"

"Mission told me," Skywarp shrugged.

No.

No, that was _far_ worse.

Humiliation transmuted into horror, "Mission told you _what_!?"

"Well," Skywarp's optics were glinting in amusement, "He told me you and Megatron had a very long, _private_ conversation in your washroom, so, ya know. Kinda obvious." He shook his helm, "That's horrible, by the way. Doing that to your poor little sparkling. He had no idea-!"

"You didn't tell him did you?!" Starscream's gaze burned, claws poised threateningly.

"Of course I didn't," Skywarp snorted, "though you might wanna be a little more subtle about it."

The purple seeker's optics very deliberately strayed to Starscream's left shoulder, an optical ridge arching. Starscream glanced at himself, and felt his cheeks warm with a mix of mild embarrassment and ballooning annoyance at the sight of the crescent shaped dent marring the normally pristine armour.

That's what he got for letting randy warlords accost him down deserted corridors. He'd been lucky to escape with his panel still attached. He mustn't forget to _thank_ Megatron for that later.

"You're one to talk about subtlety," he sneered, "Remind again who it was in the academy that teleported himself onto the stage of the lecture theatre when he was getting his seal broken-"

"It hurt!" Skywarp shouted, tucking his thighs a little closer together at the memory, "Primus, you didn't have to bring that up..."

"Megatron doesn't even know what subtle _means_ ," Starscream complained, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. "You know what he's like. I've worked hard to keep Mission's innocence in tact all these years-"

Skywarp snorted.

"...What I'm saying," he growled, glaring at the rude interruption, "Is that it won't be long before he sees something he shouldn't and starts asking questions."

"Hey, aren't your old quarters still vacant?" Skywarp veered right out of their conversation topic.

"You can't have them," Starscream snapped immediately, annoyed.

"No," Skywarp bounced down off the monitor, smiling, "I mean, it's an empty room. Right next to Megatron's. Why don't you just... stick Mission in there?"

It was... not a bad idea actually. But, if he gave up his private quarters, then-

"You think I should stay with Megatron. Permanently."

"You already are."

"I am not in any sort of _relationship_ with him," he hissed, feeling exposed. "We don't even recharge in the same berth."

Skywarp looked at him quizzically.

"He-" Starscream sighed, "He recharges on the sofa."

"He's been letting you two sleep in his berth and slums it on the coach?" Skywarp sounded amazed, "Screamer. C'mon. He's done his time-"

"This isn't about Megatron," Starscream said quickly, "or myself. It's about my sparkling, and he's been traumatised by this entire ordeal. I can't just evict him from my presence and-"

Skywarp held up a servo, "So, hang on. You're saying that if I went up to Mission and asked him if he wanted his own room, all to himself, he's going to say 'no'?"

Starscream glared at him.

* * *

"Creator?"

Mission's usually clipped accent had begun to hold an inflection of commonness, an unfortunate side effect of their living in a ship full of the lower caste. It hardly suited his regal heritage, and it was all Starscream could do to resist the urge to lecture him on the correct pronunciation of his vowels. It would have been an exercise in futility anyway. Mission was doing it on purpose. He wanted to sound like his sire.

Starscream suppressed the full bodied shudder at the jarring voice, turning to consider his sparkling, "Yes?"

"Can I have my own room?"

Starscream tried to keep his expression mutual, but a spark of annoyance must have flashed across his face before he could hide it. Mission was frowning at him. More determined to get what he wanted now that he knew his creator wasn't keen.

He was going to tear Skywarp's wings off and turn them into a shelving units.

"I... will think about it." He decided to be tactful.

"Sire already said yes." Mission's optics narrowed, and Starscream should have known that the sneaky little brat would have gone behind his back to ask the more lenient parent.

And of course Megatron would have said _yes_ , the filthy, insatiable old bucket. He'd probably jumped at the opportunity to get their sparkling out of his berth, probably promised Mission all sorts of presents and rewards to keep him interested.

Starscream took a deep breath, gesturing for Mission to walk besides him, "Well, seeing as you've made up your mind we'll collect your things. Shall we?"

There was the tiniest hint of hesitance in Mission's expression, as if he hadn't expected things to move so fast, but he hid it well. "Yes. Good."

"Good," Starscream smiled back, lips twitching. "I'm impressed actually, that you're finally old enough to recharge on your own."

Mission looked up at him.

"I wouldn't, personally." he continued, "It can get so lonely on this ship at night. Creepy too. What with all the unexplained noises, the creaking vents. And who knows what comes sneaking up from those lower levels after dark? Luckily I'll have your sire to keep me company."

He looked down, and Mission quickly retracted his gaze to the floor, considerably less enthusiastic than before, wings hanging low. And Starscream knew his sparkling would be running back into his arms before night even fell.

Well, he probably would have. Had Megatron not been ten steps ahead already.

When they reached the officer's quarters the corridor was full of Constructicons, the door to Starscream's old suite held open. Megatron himself was by the doorway, and appeared to be supervising. A wry smile curled his mouth when he saw them approach.

Mission broke away from him and rushed forward, poking his helm around the doorway. His wings shot back upright again.

Starscream stamped over behind him, lips pressed tightly together to prevent the expletives from slipping past them.

"I thought some refurbishment might have been in order," Megatron was as charming as ever in the face of his obvious annoyance. "I could hardly have my son and heir living in that dusty deathtrap of the room."

 _My room,_ Starscream's denta ground together, as he pushed past Megatron to see in. _ **My** dusty deathtrap of a-_

The ceiling caught his gaze before anything else. The overhead lights had been taken out and replaced with hundreds of tiny glinting stars, mounted on the freshly painted black background. Mission was stood in the centre of the room and was going to injure himself with the angle he had his helm thrown back, staring up at them.

There was an easel in the corner, and an entire stack of unused datapads surrounding it. The walls around it were decorated with some of Mission's best work, the pictures Megatron had pretended not to have been so enamoured with. The other wall opposite was lined with shelving units, empty save for a handful of datafiles; waiting to be filled with whatever trinkets might take Mission's fancy.

Starscream jaw loosened in surprise. "It's..."

"He won't be far," Megatron leant in to murmur, curling an arm around his waist and settling a warm servo against his hip. He turned him slightly, directing him to the wall the separated this room from Megatron's, to where Scrapper and Longhaul were wiring a door into place.

"Just think of it of an extension," Megatron said, nudging him slightly to get a response. "We have some privacy, and he knows we're just behind that door."

Mission had finished his exploration of the room and had come back around to him, wings flicking with an eagerness he was trying to hard not to show.

"Like it?" Megatron asked, knowing the answer already.

"It's," Mission struggled, "I- suppose this is acceptable."

"Only _acceptable_?" Megatron smirked, "If you don't like it, I can-"

"No!" Mission shouted suddenly, cheeks flushing a little pink. "I mean- I like it."

"Say 'thank you'," Starscream found his voice again to remind his sparkling of his manners.

"Thank you, sire," Mission repeated without protest. Behind them the Constructicon's finished their work and moved to leave the room, nodding to their leader as they passed. Mission looked moments away from bouncing on his thrusters in repressed excitement. "Can I-?"

"Go on," Megatron said before he even finished the question, "Enjoy yourself."

Mission span away and ran to his new easel, parents forgotten. Starscream lingered in the doorway a few moments more, watching Mission throw himself into painting whatever had popped into his over-active processor.

The servo on his waist pulled him back eventually, and the door closed.

"What do you think?" Megatron's deep voice drew him from his musing, "I realise those were your quarters I just gave away, but I have been considering, for some time now, that perhaps you could-"

Starscream hooked his claws into Megatron's clavicle seam and yanked him down, slamming his mouth against his leader's open one just to shut him up. Megatron gasped into it, surprised, frame tense for just one moment before relaxing, sinking into his arms and his kiss.

Starscream palmed behind him for the access panel to _their_ quarters, falling through it and dragging Megatron with him, stumbling into the centre of the room.

Megatron's glossa pushed past his lips and deepened the kiss, turning the tables in his favour as he bowed Starscream over, using his height to his advantage; ready to pin him against something - _anything_ and take him hungrily, reassert his dominance.

Starscream growled into his mouth, slipping one leg between Megatron's and rubbing his thigh against a warm spot of heat. Megatron's chest rumbled, his actions faltered. It didn't take much to trip him.

Megatron teetered backwards, and Starscream aided his fall with a little nudge to his shoulder. His leader collapsed across the berth with a loud, muffled thud, optics bright with surprise, a little frown drawing across his features.

With a grin Starscream climbed onto the berth, throwing a thigh over Megatron's waist to straddle him. Megatron moved to sit up, but Starscream shoved him back, leaning over to pin him.

"Stay down," he ordered.

Megatron's smirk was challenging, but eager. He settled back obediently, purring, "Yes, Starscream."

"That's _Commander_ Starscream to you." Starscream leant closer, mouth brushing Megatron's curved lips.

"Yes, _Commander..."_ His leader breathed back, letting him take his wrists and push them up above him helm.

Starscream felt the hips beneath him roll upwards, creating friction. The optics staring up at him were desperate, hazy with lust.

"Finally," he grinned at Megatron, servo slowly slivering down between them, slipping between his leader's thighs. "I have you right where I want you."

Megatron groaned, loud and low, and as Starscream worked his fingers with practised ease, he really found himself hoping his leader had had the foresight to soundproof the room.

He had.


End file.
